Fall
by Lanie McCoy
Summary: [Sequel to Balance] Hiei has finally confronted Kurama with the challenge of regaining his own life, but it'll take a little trip to Makai to work it all out. And, you know, it's all twisted and psychological and stuff. HK involved.
1. Silent Heart

Disclaimer: how're you all doing today? Yeah, that's good. Bad. I don't know, it depends on how you're doing today.

_Fall_

_The yellow walls are lined with portraits  
__And I've got my new red fetching leather jacket  
__All these poses such beautiful poses  
__Makes any boy feel like picking up roses_

_—Rufus Wainwright, "Poses"_

Prologue: Silent Heart

What day is it today? Hiei wondered noncommittally. Tuesday? Friday? It is a day like any other day. Why does today need to be special? It does not. It is not.

Yet even as he thought these bleak thoughts, Hiei was marching off, away from his boarder patrol to take one of his occasional trips to Ningenkai. They were, more often than not, his occasional trips to see Kurama, but sometimes he saw Yûsuke, or spied on Kuwabara, or hovered over Yukina. So they were his trips to Ningenkai, in general. They had been for three years now. Three years taking trips to a place where he was not wanted, nor did he truly want to be. Why did he put himself through this torment? He wasn't sure, but he knew that he had to keep going back.

He recalled, stepping through the boarders between worlds, the first time he had seen this dividing subspace. The kekkai barrier had posed no threat to a being of such low energy as himself (a mere D class by Reikai standards) and he had been too preoccupied by his own motivations to pay attention to the journey. Now, he mused, he could see that it made him feel a sort of emptiness, as though he had no place on either side of the wall. That could be used to discourage crossing over, if Reikai saw it and magnified it properly. That was Koenma's headache, though, and Hiei would have no part in fixing it.

As he always did, Hiei emerged into the forest, closing the rip in dimensions as soon as he could get his bearings. It wasn't the forest with trees and whatnot, but a tiny alley behind the metallic forest of Tokyo where Hiei hadn't seen any humans for…well, as long as he had been using the locale as a transportation destination. Three years, then. A few demons dotted the area here and there, but they were all familiar enough with inter-dimensional travel and paid him no mind.

Right away, Hiei turned to his left and walked forward exactly ten paces until reaching the main drag. Few cars ever used the road this far back, as it led through the slums and "haunted" regions of the city, but Hiei would have to watch out when he reached the more urban parts of this wonderland. He couldn't afford to be hit and recover with nary a scratch—too many suspicious eyes—and he didn't really want to run quickly if he could avoid it. Kurama wasn't too far off, anyway, and once he reached the city, he could walk through the park. That would be nice if it wasn't too crowded.

Letting his instincts direct his feet (which made it far simpler to concentrate on his own thoughts), Hiei soon found himself being pushed around in a thicket of bustling pedestrians. Logically, he pushed right back, shoving his way to the nearest intersection and looking to his left—what convenience! There was the park, just as he remembered. He faced the relatively unpopulated greenery and waited impatiently for the light to turn. It did and he crossed without hesitation, nearly getting himself nicked by an impatient driver who had _almost_ skidded into the crosswalk. He contented himself with shooting the man a vicious glare, forgetting the incident when he ducked beneath a big, sturdy tree. Walking like a normal human didn't mean he needed to keep himself visible.

Had he become almost too human? Push and shove like them instead of punch and kick like a normal demon; walk like them instead of flitting between cars and trees; content with glares instead of easily burning weaker bastards to the ground. No, he reminded himself, you're just acting. Acting to save yourself so that you can keep coming back here. Acting so that when you get to Kurama's, no one will see him with you and ask him who you are. No one will bother him. He's been through enough.

Hadn't they all?

Before he knew it, Hiei had reached Kurama's for an annual visit. Technically, he mused, it wasn't "annual"—these trips occurred less than once a year, sometimes. He thought the last one had been about a year and three or so months. Not that it mattered.

He could barge right in and Kurama would think it "lovely" (the fox always like to see him), but he looked in the window and saw Kurama sitting on his bed with his back to the window, talking to some seemingly younger girl. She was pretty, yes, Hiei acknowledged with a tiny rush of jealousy, and they seemed to be having a good time. She looked towards the ceiling before she spoke again and her eyes passed the window—double taking, she tilted her head delicately and pointed to him. She said something else, presumably "Who's that?" or "There's a man out there" or something, and Kurama looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened as he saw Hiei, and the demon edged back a little, thinking he would leave for awhile and give them some time to finish their conversation. Completely dashing that theory, Kurama stood and opened his window.

"Hiei!" he called happily. "Whatever are you doing up there?"

It took Hiei a moment to realize that Kurama was pretending Hiei was a normal human for this odd girl. He shrugged, deciding to go along with it.

"I was in the park," he said, "and I thought I would come by to visit." A small lie, but that was all right.

"The front door wasn't good enough for you?" Kurama joked, pointing out the window. Hiei considered setting it on fire to invent an excuse, but Kurama wouldn't like that at all and Hiei wasn't exactly mad at him.

"No…I felt like climbing this tree," he said thinly, trying to tell Kurama that he was pushing it.

"Shûichi-kun," the girl said sweetly, walking forward a step, "will you introduce me to your friend? I haven't seen him around anywhere."

She reminded Hiei of Kurama's mother, but in a sickly sort of way. He didn't think he liked her. He looked over at her passively, trying to seem as though he always came in through the window (which he did, he thought, growing more annoyed all the time, but that wasn't normal, was it?).

"I'm sorry, where have my manners gone?" Kurama said, smiling. "This is my friend…Jaganshi-san. He's visiting from overseas."

The girl bowed politely and beamed at Hiei. He definitely didn't like her.

"Eh, Hiei, would you like to come in?" Kurama asked, opening the window wider than was necessary and gesturing to the room. Hiei nodded and climbed in, pretending to have some small difficulty and closing the glass behind him.

"Overseas?" the girl asked, apparently trying to seem interesting in Minamino Shûichi's odd friend. Hiei nodded curtly, trying to think of a country he could pretend to be from.

"America," Kurama lied smoothly, gesturing now to the bed for the girl to sit. Hiei was content to sit on the windowsill and Kurama would take the bed or his desk chair. Taking the offer, the odd girl smiled again and looked at Hiei with wild curiosity.

"Do you speak English?" she asked. "I'm doing dreadfully in my English language class, do you think perhaps you could help me?"

"I won't be here long," Hiei said curtly. Her face fell and she nodded.

"I understand."

I'll bet you do, Hiei thought with some bitterness. He didn't even know this girl, but he didn't care enough to remind Kurama of that fact. Unfortunately for him, the girl decided to do it for him.

"Shûichi-kun, aren't you going to introduce _me_ to Jaganshi-san?" she asked, reminding Hiei more and more of Shiori. Kurama shook his head as though clearing it after a long nap.

"Oh, dear," he said fretfully, "my head must be in the clouds. Hiei, this is Okinawa-san. She lives just down the hall; she was just here to ask me some things for her biology class."

Hiei nodded. He thought it very obvious that he wanted her to leave, but whether Kurama was ignoring him or didn't get the hint, he wasn't sure, because the conversation carried on. He only pretended to listen to the girl's babbling queries and Kurama had the good sense not to get him involved.

"So then," Kurama said after a few minutes, "is that all?"

"Oh, yes," Okinawa said happily, clapping her hands together. "Thank you so much!"

"Let me show you to the door…"

When the girl had gone, Hiei slipped off the sill and sat instead on Kurama's desk chair. It was padded, and he felt he could afford himself the luxury. He made sure to be glaring when Kurama came back into the room, but he lightened up when he noticed that the fox appeared significantly more exhausted than he had when talking to Okinawa.

"Hiei," he said, sounding stressed, "thank gods you're here. I don't know what I would have done if she had asked me anything more…"

Hiei raised an eyebrow and Kurama elaborated begrudgingly.

"Miyuki is only twenty or so and I'm certain she fancies me," he explained. "She's terrible with horticulture, but she knows I have a certain fondness for plant life and she wants us to have that in common."

"Ah."

The silence fell awkwardly as Hiei refused to strike up conversation and Kurama busied himself straightening things that were perfectly in order. They both knew what they would come to discuss—Kurama's mentality—but neither was too willing to start them off.

Finally, Kurama turned to Hiei as he realized that he was straightening the same picture frame for the third time. He smiled winningly, as he sometimes did, and Hiei hid his annoyance.

"It really is lovely to see you," Kurama said kindly. Hiei nodded.

"I know. You always say that."

"But this time I really mean it," Kurama insisted.

"So you usually don't?" Hiei asked, pretending to take insult at Kurama's fumbled wordplay.

Kurama chuckled delicately and sat on his bed, which was close to Hiei and the desk chair. He sighed, as though letting a large weight rise off his shoulders and then having it settle back down. Hiei wondered how one could fit such an odd mix of emotion into one simple breath. Leaning back in the chair, he felt the legs tilt off the floor.

"Hiei…" Kurama said tiredly, "why do you bother with these silly visits? You don't seem to enjoy yourself much when you're here."

That was true enough. Hiei spent most of his time in Ningenkai complaining about humans or yelling that Kurama was wasting his life by dwelling on that stupid five-years-gone mission. Kurama always denied these accusations forcefully (too forcefully, Hiei thought), but both were stubborn and neither would give up to the other. So what could Hiei say? "I don't enjoy myself, but…?" But what? But I think I need to keep an eye on you? Why? Because I still love you?

That would go over well. Let's skip right to a _different_ awkward topic, why don't we? Hiei thought with some amusement. No, he had kept his heart silent for five years now, another few wouldn't hurt. In fact, it wouldn't be anything new, would it, if he never told Kurama—never again, not counting that unfortunate incident three years prior—of his emotion. He hadn't told Yukina of his relation to her; he watched and protected her from afar and it didn't hurt him too badly. Or maybe it did, and he had gotten used to it by now. That sounded right.

Kurama seemed to have lost interest in his question, but he turned back on Hiei with expectant eyes and the demon knew he wasn't so lucky. He shrugged noncommittally and decided not to look away.

"It's usual," he said. "Something I've become accustomed to. Why bother to stop? It gives me an excuse to take leave from patrolling, anyway."

Kurama smirked, a surprising change from his earlier exhaustion. "Is that all I am to you? An excuse? A long lunch break?"

Cocking his head at the odd question, Hiei paused to collect his thoughts before answering. Was that insult he heard in Kurama's voice? Had he said something to offend?

"No…" he said slowly, trying to be careful. "If I needed someone who was simply an excuse, I would certainly not go to the same person every time."

"Then," Kurama said, turning to face Hiei fully, "what am I?"

"What? You're a fox, aren't you?"

Kurama chuckled lightly. "I mean, what am I to _you_?"

"Ah…"

Unfortunately, the question for Hiei was not so much _what_ Kurama was to him as it was how much to _tell_ Kurama he meant to him. He had already foreseen this, but it still disoriented him a little to be faced with it.

"You're…well, I suppose you're my best friend," he said haltingly. Kurama looked down as though he was being berated for doing something he shouldn't have.

"Thank you, Hiei," he said softly, sounding more hurt than thankful. Hiei raised an eyebrow. He had thought Kurama would be pleased to hear, rather than assume, as he normally did, that he had a special place in Hiei's heart. Had his tone been wrong? His choice of words? Was this just another case of Hiei fucking up? It wouldn't be the first time.

"You're welcome."

Not really expecting those words to fall from his friend's lips, Kurama jerked his head back in a distinctly ungraceful manner and looked at Hiei with wider eyes. Hiei watched this, a distant observer, and remained impartial. This mood held for a minute or so before Kurama blinked it away and stood up.

"Going somewhere?" Hiei asked in a flat voice, barely even a question. Kurama looked over at him with a pseudo-kind smile, the sort Hiei recognized from their days as Koenma's lackeys. Usually, that smile meant something like "I'm going to kill you now and dear, I promise it will be filled with vengeance." Hiei didn't much like that smile.

"I was going to return Miyuki's textbook," Kurama explained in a suitable tone. "She seems to have left it on my comforter. Would you like to come along with me?"

Hiei glared dully. Kurama knew very well he wouldn't want to come along, but he was putting on his polite airs and pretending Hiei was another random face in another random crowd. On par with the humans he so resented, even. Hiei tried to take offense, but it was hard. He knew Kurama was trying to offend him—teasing, maybe—so he would instinctively push back any feelings of hurt, but simply to contrast what the fox thought he would do, he tried to make himself feel insulted. Was he trying too much? Whatever the problem, it hadn't gotten him anywhere good.

"No," he said bitingly, arranging his expression to match. "Have fun with your friend."

Thin-lipped, Kurama smiled and turned on his heel, walking out the door. Hiei heard, with some satisfaction, as it closed a little too loudly. Kurama had refrained from slamming it because Kurama never slammed doors, but the volume—just a few notches too high—was good enough.

Three minutes passed and Hiei was becoming curious. How long did Kurama take to walk down the hall, return a book, and walk back? The girl couldn't have engaged him in so much conversation, could she? Not even the ever-polite Kurama would put up with her for so long. But Hiei didn't care enough to actually go over to her house and check on his friend…no…he would wait.

And wait he did, for all of two minutes. What could Kurama possible be doing with that irritating girl? Leaping off the bed, Hiei padded silently to the door and opened it, peering out into the hall. Not seeing anything—Miyuki must live around the corner—Hiei listened in on the conversation.

"Really, Miyuki-chan," Kurama was saying, "I should be going…"

"Oh, well, thank you so much for returning my book!" Miyuki gushed in response. "I don't know what I would have done without it, I can be so absentminded sometimes!"

Kurama laughed awkwardly. "Yes, well, I'll be seeing you—"

"How about tonight?" she interrupted.

Kurama paused. "Excuse me?" he said finally. Hiei waited, his head tilted slightly as he listened. Kurama sounded resistant—that was good. Good…yes. Definitely good. Hiei knew Kurama _said_ he wasn't fond of Miyuki, but this was like proof. Even better.

"Do you want to get together tonight?" Miyuki reiterated. "Dinner or something."

"Miyuki-chan, I should really get back to my friend, he'll only be here a short while—"

"So then when he's gone," Miyuki pressed. "Set the date now."

Hiei could only imagine Kurama's expression—dark, bitter, angry, tense—but of course, he was probably collected and entirely expressionless. Hiei's fantasies would have to remain just that, unless he irritated Kurama (something he did not want to do). Ducking back into the apartment, Hiei closed the door as silently as he had opened it and sat back in his chair. Hopefully Kurama, who was off his game as it was, would not notice that he had been eavesdropping.

He heard a quiet insistence from a far off doorway.

"Miyuki-chan," Kurama was saying, "I really must be getting back to my friend—you don't understand how he is, he might leave if I seem too disinterested."

Hiei perked up at that, his brow furrowed in newfound irritation.

"Are you not interested in me?" Miyuki asked awkwardly, her voice sounding slightly choked. Kurama audibly sighed, but Hiei was still annoyed and didn't care too much.

"Understand the difference in our ages," Kurama tried, though the difference in her age and the "age" of Minamino Shûichi was not staggering.

"I understand," she said loudly, as though she were being dumped. "I understand perfectly, Minamino-san, thank you. Please get off my doorstep."

As though she had asked him to be there, Hiei couldn't help but think.

"Goodbye," Kurama said cordially to the slammed door. Hiei adopted dull eyes and a bitter smile as he waited for his friend's return.

He and Kurama needed to have a little chat.

* * *

And thus begins _Fall_. Less action-y and more romantic-y than _Balance_, I admit, but I think psychological drama is my strength. To anyone who was disappointed with _Balance_, I'm sorry I got your hopes up, but _I _hope you'll like _Fall_ a little better.


	2. Unnatural Smile

Disclaimer: the guys who make hospital food must be in league with the guys who make airplane food.

_Fall_

_This is my life  
__It's not what it was before  
All these feelings I've shared  
And these are my dreams  
That I'd never lived before  
Somebody shake me 'cause I  
I must be sleeping_

_—Staind, "So Far Away"_

Chapter One: Unnatural Smile

Kurama took his sweet time returning home, but Hiei remained frozen in his seat until then. When the door finally did open, his frightening expression might have been enough to persuade Kurama to shut it again and stay in the hall, but fortunately, Kurama was too curious.

"Hiei?" Kurama said hesitantly. "Is something wrong?"

"You could say that," Hiei said, his smile never fading.

Kurama sighed, sitting on his bed and staring at Hiei with a sort of exasperation. He shrugged and folded his hands on his lap.

"What do you want from me, Hiei?" he asked, his laced fingers dropping lazily between his knees. "If you could only tell me, I might…I don't know. I might be able to fix it."

"There is only one thing I want from you," Hiei said, "and we both know what it is."

"But that's nothing new," Kurama said, his voice a tie between stern and bored. "This is something that's making you angry, something I've just done recently. What is it?"

Rather than answer, Hiei waited silently. He knew Kurama would figure out his problem in a moment if he would only stop to think, and if he wouldn't—well, Hiei needed him to, that was that. He would be patient for as long as it took. He watched with some amusement as realization dawned on Kurama.

"You were listening when I talked to Miyuki," Kurama said as though this were highly offensive. Hiei tilted his head forward and slightly aside to indicate that Kurama was correct.

"And you heard me say…" Kurama trailed off, realizing what must have happened. Normally, Kurama would keep this information to himself and merely act on it, but he was not in his right mind. He hadn't been for a long time. Hiei tilted his head the other way, another "yes."

"Oh, Hiei, I didn't mean…"

"Didn't mean what?" Hiei asked after a small pause, not noticing or not caring how shell-shocked Kurama looked. "Didn't mean what you said? Or," he said more forcefully, "didn't mean for me to hear?"

Kurama leaned over, dropping his entire upper body onto his legs and hugging his thighs. He quivered slightly and Hiei tried to feel sorry, but failed.

"All of it…"

Hiei did, however, feel a little nauseated at the weakness of this fallen hero. "Kurama, pick yourself up off the ground and have some pride, would you! Explain yourself! This is hardly the greatest of your problems right now!"

Kurama did pick his head up, but his sickly eyes didn't do much to sooth Hiei's stomach. He seemed about to cry, something Hiei definitely did not want to deal with.

"Hiei, I'm so sorry," he said in an emotional voice, his eyes wet but free of tears (for the moment, Hiei thought). "It was only an excuse, nothing more than that, and if I'd known you were listening, I would never have said it. I…I don't even know what I meant. I'm so sorry."

" 'He might leave if I seem too disinterested'?" Hiei quipped, sounding insulted. Kurama sobbed quietly, dropping his head into his hands. Hiei briefly wondered if he shouldn't have brought that up so harshly, but Kurama's response was far too emotional for mere words to be the cause. He must be undergoing some inner turmoil.

His words muffled by his own palms, Kurama tried to shout his reply. "And you don't understand!" he said. "I can't risk losing you! You're my only link back to Makai and I'm not ready to give that up!" Kurama cried again a little more softly and paused to regain his breath, his back rising and falling slowly but dramatically. "I'm not ready to give you up…"

"Me?" Hiei asked incredulously. "You've never had me to give! If I recall, it was you who rejected my love, not the other way around. But there are no second chances, Kurama, and that offer has expired." A more painful lie, Hiei didn't think he'd ever had to tell, but he convinced himself that it was for the best.

Kurama raised his head once more. Although Hiei was sure he had never let a tear fall, his eyes were bloodshot, as though he had not been sleeping for several days. Perhaps he hadn't, or it felt that way. Pity, which Hiei made sure to hide, began to creep into his conscious mind. He bashed it away with the reminder that Kurama could have returned home—his real home—at any time, yet chosen not to. Shameful.

Kurama tried once, in vain, to choke out a reply. Taking several deep and calming breaths, he tried again with more success.

"I'm sorry…"

Hiei shook his head. "How many times," he said, clearly disappointed, "do you think you can say that? How many times…and still have it mean something? How many times can it still mean _anything_? I told you the offer of my love had expired and that is not an offer I can reinstate with any ease. In fact, it is not an offer I will reinstate for any price." The lies trying to throttle his soul, Hiei plowed ahead bravely and ignored his writhing heart. "You can only apologize so much, Kurama, before it becomes so routine that it means _nothing_."

For the first time in five years, Kurama shook his head in response to Hiei's forceful declaration. He mouthed words a few times before speaking clearly.

"You're wrong, Hiei," he said softly. "I say I'm sorry because I mean it. When you say it means 'nothing,' " he said with more force, sounding like the Kurama Hiei remembered from six or even seven years ago, "you mean that it has no meaning for _you_. I, on the other hand, still mean it with all my heart. I am sorry you heard me say those words and I am sorry I wasn't more thoughtful of what you might think if you heard me speak. And if you don't want to accept that, then I can't do anything to change your mind."

Irritated at Kurama's insolence but pleased that he had broken away from his melancholy, Hiei contented himself with a small nod. Kurama looked away, almost pouting but not quite, and Hiei smiled a little. It was sort of endearing, the way Kurama tried so hard. It made Hiei want to forgive the poor bastard without so much as a questioning glance.

But he did give a questioning glance and he tried not to forgive Kurama so easily. So what if he risked hurting Kurama's feelings? That was the price for making Hiei spend so much time making sure Kurama didn't sink into another depression and, say, kill himself. Anyway, Kurama didn't look too hurt.

"Do you want to?" Kurama asked after awhile. "Do you want to accept that?"

Hiei shook his head "no." "Not really," he said. "In fact, I'm certain I don't want to accept it at all. But—!" Here Hiei put up his hand to forestall the natural argument. "No matter what I do or don't want to do about your musings, I have a greater mission at stake, so I will accept your conclusions and move along."

"A greater mission?" Kurama said at once. Hiei did not like the suddenly suspicious tone, but the question, he supposed, was inevitable.

"I might as well make it my mission," Hiei said evasively. "Not assigned by Koenma, of course, but unless it's completed, you'll be of no further use to him, anyway."

"And what might this all-important mission involve?"

Hiei looked longingly out the window. This was his fault, really, for bringing the subject about, but he wished Kurama would drop it and let him get on with things. What was his all-important, self-imposed mission? Get Kurama back to Makai, of course, and force a confrontation with Miru. But he so wanted to avoid the rage that would follow if he told Kurama his plans!

At some point, Kurama had stood and paced closer to Hiei, jerking him up by his shoulders and forcing him to stand. Hiei mightily resisted this, but in his unwillingness to hurt Kurama, the effort was pointless.

"You never did give reason to keep coming back to visit," Kurama said in a low, threatening voice. Hiei deliberately and uncomfortably avoided his gaze, his lip slightly curled in his tenseness. "Well? Now might be a good time, don't you think?"

Hiei turned to the other side, still not looking at Kurama. "What am I supposed to say?" he asked, his voice showing him to be more at loose ends than he felt. "That I was watching out for you in this perilous world full of humans? That's not true at all, and you know it."

Kurama lightly touched his fingertips to Hiei's throat and then firmly grabbed his chin, forcing them to make eye contact. He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"So then what was the reason?"

"I was making sure you didn't kill yourself!" Hiei shouted angrily.

"I was hardly in such a position," Kurama said, his voice frighteningly bitter. Hiei stopped his struggling and his eyes widened a small bit, completely of their own accord. Was that the reason Kurama was putting on this terrible façade? But that was so…backwards… Hiei could hardly believe it. Yet…

Based merely on the few words passed between them in the last few seconds, Hiei had gathered that Kurama had stayed in the human's world, living up his disguise, and not killing himself simply because killing himself was what he most wanted to do. By staying in the human's world and _not_ killing himself, Kurama was denying his most potent desires and, apparently, what his logical mind was telling him to do. That is, die. By doing so, he would be somehow getting back at Hiei for something…he wasn't quite sure what. How Hiei had tied himself into that mixed-up non-reasoning, he wasn't sure, but thinking it through, he was almost positive that he was right. There were no other explanations, logical or not.

"You're fucked up, Kurama," Hiei said incredulously. Kurama narrowed his eyes as though to say "Well, obviously."

"What is your reason?" Kurama asked again. Hiei found himself a bit tongue-tied, but tried to speak nonetheless.

"To watch over you," he said insistently. Kurama raised an eyebrow, at which point Hiei nodded sternly. "And what's more," he persisted, "I don't care whether you believe me or not, because that _is_ why I kept coming back, and I _will_ complete my mission."

"Which is what?" Kurama snapped. Before Hiei could think, he blurted out his motivations.

"To bring you back to Makai so that we can find Miru again and you can kill her, once and for all!"

Kurama dropped his hold on Hiei at once, as though he was being burned. Although that was entirely within the realm of possibility, Hiei was not harming Kurama in any way and he even stumbled a step or two when Kurama released his grip. Rubbing his shoulder to return circulation, Hiei looked up at Kurama angrily, but his expression softened almost at once.

The fox looked absolutely stunned. Maybe that had been the last thing he was expecting, but whether it was or not, he was certainly not prepared for its impact.

"You knew that was my reason," Hiei said bitterly, rolling his shoulders back. "We've both known it since I started these ridiculous visits. Why are you so stunned to hear me say it out loud?"

Kurama shook his head and shrugged, his eyes oddly dulled. Hiei discretely inspected him out of the corner of his eye. Was Kurama crying? No, it couldn't be. Not only had Hiei never seen Kurama cry, but Kurama was expressionless. Even as he told himself this, though, Hiei saw little trickles of salted water falling down Kurama's cheeks. It was an odd thing to see: Kurama's blank eyes and careless face crying openly, as though he was sad. Funny in its morbid way.

"Why?" Hiei pressed. "Hadn't you accepted it by now?"

"I had," Kurama said. "I've known it all the while. It's nothing to be surprised about."

"Yet you are," Hiei said with dawning recognition. "You tried to deny it to yourself? Why?"

Kurama only shrugged again and turned away, staring fixedly at the window. Not out it, Hiei noticed, for his eyes were focused too close. The glass couldn't possible be that interesting.

"Kurama," Hiei said, waving a hand before Kurama's face to attract his attention. "If you're forcing yourself to believe—_wrongly­_—that I'm here for social calls, then we need to get you back to Makai as soon as possible. Today, maybe. You're sick."

Kurama smiled grimly and walked around the bed, not once looking at Hiei yet somehow addressing him all the same.

"If you insist."

Prepared to launch into a long argument ending in his forcing Kurama to come with him, Hiei's open mouth went slightly slack before he closed it with a quick jerk of muscle, sending him tripping back a small step. Was this a good thing? A bad one? Both? Hiei cocked his head curiously and watched as Kurama walked over to the telephone.

"Who are you calling?" Hiei asked in a burst of sudden suspicion.

Kurama looked over with a mild smile, his eyes slightly lidded. "Yûsuke, of course."

"Why?" Hiei walked over to Kurama as he asked, preparing to pull the phone away.

"To tell him to pack his bags for the trip. It would be rude to appear suddenly on his doorstep, don't you think?"

Hiei did pull the receiver from Kurama's slack grip and slammed it into the cradle, glaring at his soon-to-be companion. "We're not bringing Yûsuke," he said firmly. "Or Kuwabara, for that matter. Or Botan or Yukina or _anyone_. We wouldn't tell Koenma, if we could help it, but he'll think it odd for you to go back after all this time," Hiei began to muse out loud. "It would be wiser to clue him in now, but I won't give him any details."

"But we should," Kurama insisted. "Koenma will tell them, anyway. It's all right."

Hiei shook his head, glaring again. "I don't want to give them more details than I'll give Koenma, and Yûsuke will ask for them."

"And he won't be satisfied," Kurama said fondly, "until he gets them all."

"Exactly."

Smiling dimly, Kurama walked from the phone to his backpack, which was hanging from a doorknob. Picking it up, he began to place various objects in it, then opened his closet and took his standard yellow tunic. He folded it and placed it in the bag. Watching curiously, Hiei didn't think to stop him until then.

"You're not staying long," he said. "We'll find her and leave. No need for extra clothes."

Turning his dazed grin to Hiei, Kurama shook his head. "No, because you see, it will be difficult to find her, the way it was last time. We will be led down many wrong paths. I will need clothing to last me so long."

Hiei raised an eyebrow and shook his head, as well. "You'd only be wearing the same dirty clothes over and over. We won't have much time to stop, unless you require sleep. Don't take more than you absolutely need or you'll be too weighed down."

Kurama chuckled mindlessly. Hiei tried to get another good look at him, but Kurama kept turning away. "Silly," he said. "I _am_ only taking what I need."

Skeptical, Hiei took the bag from Kurama's hand and began to paw through it. He found not only the yellow tunic, but also a small stuffed fox, a studded brown leather belt, and several mismatched socks. Tossing each item away as he removed it, Hiei threw the bag back to Kurama and shook his head.

"I can hardly see us going to some social event that would warrant that belt," Hiei said disdainfully. "Leave the bag here and come with me."

"Come with you?" Kurama asked, that freakish smile still on his face. "I'm sorry, there seems to be some misunderstanding."

Hiei watched Kurama, making sure his own face betrayed nothing.

"You see," Kurama went on, "I will be the one to defeat my own problems, and I don't really need your help. Therefore, your presence would merely slow me down."

Shaking his head with a tiny smirk, Hiei put his hand on Kurama's shoulder (with rather more pressure than was necessary) and pushed him, sending him down on the bed.

"You're hardly in your right mind," Hiei said sternly, as though disciplining a bad child, "and you need more help than you can afford to bring."

All at once, Kurama seemed to melt. His head dropped down and he rested his arms on his legs, crossing his ankles. Hiei stepped forward, hand extended as though to touch Kurama, but not actually making contact. His brow furrowed in confusion and a little concern, Hiei decided to stand in front of Kurama and hope he looked up some time soon. Luckily for him, after a few small sobs, Kurama did look up.

"Oh, gods, Hiei…"

Bending over slightly so as to be on eye level with Kurama, Hiei put his hand beside Kurama on the comforter. "Yes?"

"I…I don't even know what I'm doing anymore… Everything's so confusing! I'm going crazy, and I don't know what to do!"

Hiei sat on the floor and moved his hands, resting them on Kurama's knees. "That's why you should come with me to Makai," he said comfortingly. "So we can destroy Miru once and for all, and you'll be rid of all this madness."

"But I _can't_!" Kurama cried, shaking his head wildly. "I can't do that by any means! She'll escape, just as she did last time, and she'll find out where I am and stalk me again, just as she did in Makai. I can't afford demons on my doorstep every day because of her!"

"Not if we kill her," Hiei said, doing his best to keep an edge of impatience out of his voice. "That's why you've got to come with me, because I won't take that prize from you by any means."

"But I can't risk it."

At that inopportune moment, as luck would have it, the phone rang. Hiei looked over at it with pure hatred in his eyes, but Kurama, glad for the normalcy of it all, leapt up and snatched the receiver.

"Hello?"

* * *

I would like to make two entirely offhanded comments for anyone who's interested, one of which being the voice actors for YYH started recording in 2001 (although to the best of my knowledge, at least the last saga, or maybe the last two or even three, never aired in the U.S.), the second of which being yes, Miyuki was a humorous digression who became a convenient plot twist, entirely of her own volition.


	3. The Roles We Play

Disclaimer: my mother is more freaked about my applying and getting into college than I am, and it's very irritating.

_Fall_

_Wish I was too dead to care  
If indeed I cared at all  
Never had a voice to protest  
So you fed me shit to digest_

_—Stone Sour, "Bother"_

Chapter Two: The Roles We Play

"Hello?" Kurama asked cheerfully. Hiei frowned at the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Oh, yes," the conversation continued, "I'm doing all right, and—yes, I'm certain I'm all right…_yes_, yes! Goodness, it's just such a surprise to hear from you after all this time."

His frustration growing as Kurama refused to speak the caller's name, Hiei wondered if Kurama had another phone he could listen in on. Judging from the small size of the apartment, that was highly unlikely, but one could hope.

"Come over?" Kurama said suddenly, sounding a just a bit frantic. "Here? Now?" A small pause, then: "Well…I suppose you could… Yes, we _do_ have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?"

Hiei raised an eyebrow and sat on the bed, staring at Kurama evenly. Someone was coming over, someone who he could afford to introduce Hiei to. Hopefully it wouldn't be another love-struck child like Miyuki; Hiei wasn't sure he could handle another of those without fleeing or setting something on fire. Or both. Yes, maybe both would be good.

"Very well then," Kurama was saying. "See you."

Hiei stood, a little restless, and walked over to Kurama. Tapping his shoulder, he prompted the redhead to turn and smile (rather falsely, Hiei thought with some resentment), tilting his head as though to ask "What is it?" Hiei met this with an even glare and refused to answer. He thought it clear enough what he wanted; if Kurama was going to be difficult, things might have to get a touch bloody.

Sure enough, Kurama nodded knowingly and said, "We're going to have a visitor in a few minutes. If you're highly opposed, you might want to sit outside until he's gone."

"Yes, I understood that much," Hiei said slowly, "but what I wondered was _who_ that visitor might be."

"You'll see soon enough," Kurama said cryptically. Hiei gritted his teeth inside his mouth but didn't give any outward signs of stress, so Kurama merely smiled some more and went about putting back all the things he had taken out to put in his bag (which he also put away). Bustling around so diligently, Kurama nearly missed the knock on the door several minutes later, jerking up in surprise as he heard the sharp rapping. Hiei went over to the window and put one foot on the sill, prepared to leave at a moment's notice. Something about the figure outside in the hall…_felt_ familiar, but it wouldn't be Kuwabara (who had moved out of his house some time ago and was living near Genkai's temple, where Yukina lived), or Kurama would have warned Hiei to leave. Yûsuke? Maybe, but this familiar feeling was a little too weak for that. Certainly not Koenma or Botan, who did not have actual spirit energy. Absolutely not Genkai, who would have had a more formal conversation with Kurama on the phone. Kaito? Yanagisawa? Was Kurama still in contact, even, with anyone from those days?

Meanwhile, Kurama had opened the door (much to Hiei's chagrin, he hadn't noticed) and let in none other than Urameshi Yûsuke.

"_Yûsuke_?" Hiei couldn't help but mutter. The retiree in question looked over at Hiei and waved.

"Hey, Hiei! This is a surprise, I didn't expect you to be here!"

Turning around, Hiei sat on the sill and stared ahead blankly. Accustomed to this antisocial behavior, even after so many years, Yûsuke merely smiled and turned to Kurama. They began to chatter away and Hiei tuned them out in favor of listening to his own thoughts.

So if that call was any evidence, Yûsuke and Kurama hadn't been in contact much since the end of the mission. Much as Hiei suspected, Kurama wasn't giving updates on his condition to the other team members, and in fact Hiei was only up to date because of his infrequent visits. The question was not so much "Why?" as it was "Why _now_?" Had Yûsuke been in the area and finally sensed Hiei's presence? Was Koenma keeping tabs on him? Was it mere coincidence? No, it couldn't be, that was just too strange. So then why that day? Why that hour, even, or that minute? Yûsuke couldn't have waited?

That was another thing. Yûsuke wouldn't simply call Kurama out of the blue, would he? There had to be something he wanted to say or to do, something that made the most sense if done now. Was it something related to Hiei? Unlikely. Makai? Ningenkai? Reikai? Koenma? No, the only reason Koenma would contact Yûsuke to get to Kurama would be for a mission, and Yûsuke was not only retired, but _re_-retired. He would never accept something like that. Though, Hiei pondered, that explained the low energy he had felt. If Yûsuke was out of practice, his energy levels _would_ be lower than what Hiei was used to.

A hand was waving in front of Hiei's face as he was jarred back to reality.

"Still in there?" Yûsuke asked jokingly. "Kurama and I were just talking about the last six years; seems you've been making some visits to Ningenkai and not seeing me!"

Hiei nodded mutely and Yûsuke trailed off with an awkward laugh. Hiei instantly perceived it as a prelude to some sort of bad news, but he wouldn't let either of his friends know that. Not quite yet.

"So, rather than take offense at that, I have arrived with some good news!"

"You're finally going to give up polluting Makai with your fanciful tournaments?" Hiei asked idly, although it was a pointless guess; both Yûsuke and Kurama knew that Hiei, much like the rest of the demons, approved of the tournaments and attempted to win them every year.

Yûsuke shook his head with a small chuckle. "Not quite. But you were close—it _is_ about Makai."

Hiei and Kurama exchanged "looks"—Kurama's of gentle comfort, Hiei's of panicked urgency. Watching this silent exchange, Yûsuke tried to withdraw himself from their respective lines of sight and pretend he was temporarily absent. It didn't work very well.

"What about Makai?" Hiei asked with quiet apprehension, his gaze still on Kurama. Kurama, meanwhile, altered his own expression to perplexed innocence as he watched Hiei look at him. How the fox ever managed to look innocent, Hiei wasn't sure, but he did it rather well.

"I heard through the grapevine—" Yûsuke began, but Hiei cut him off at once.

"From who?" he asked bitingly. Koenma must have had something to do with this, he absolutely must have. Hiei would kill the little godling.

"That's not important. The important—"

"From _who_?"

Yûsuke shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with his hands a little. Hiei frowned at his resistance, which only made Yûsuke wilt more. After another moment, he blurted out an answer.

"Koenma told me you were going to Makai."

Kurama began to speak, possibly to confirm Yûsuke's suspicions, and Hiei promptly slapped his hand over the fox's mouth. If Yûsuke knew, Yûsuke would want to come, and Hiei didn't want anyone who wasn't necessary (which is to say, anyone other than Kurama and himself) tagging along.

"And?" he said snappishly. Yûsuke smiled, waving his hands casually as if to dismiss the statement entirely. He seemed to understand that this was a delicate issue, and for that Hiei was grateful. Maybe Yûsuke would let things lie and anticipate Hiei's response before it had to be made.

"I just thought, you know," Yûsuke said with a light laugh, "for old times' sake, we could go together!"

Hiei's glare was absolutely venomous. Yûsuke felt himself wilting, but tried to keep his smile plastered in place anyway. He was nowhere near Kurama's skill level and it showed. Hiei felt a little twinge of pity for the former detective, but not enough to change his actions or his expression. Kurama tried to remove Hiei's hand from his mouth, but despite the lack of grip, Hiei was staying firm. Kurama contemplated licking Hiei's palm, but that only worked on young children and obsessive teenagers, really.

"Old times' sake," Hiei said disbelievingly. Yûsuke nodded a little more weakly than he had before, smile faltering for a moment.

"I take it you object," he said, his voice cracking. Hiei nodded slowly, his eyes locked in one place and the rest of his body never moving.

"I'll…just be going then," Yûsuke said in a rush, but Hiei was waiting for him, blocking the door. Yûsuke jerked his hand back, startled, and visibly began sweating.

"Did Koenma put you up to this visit?" Hiei asked in an icy voice. Yûsuke shook his head at once, too quickly for Hiei's liking. Suspicious…

"He did," Hiei accused. Yûsuke continued shaking his head and Hiei smacked him, stopping the action. Putting a hand to his new wound (if you could call it that), Yûsuke looked a little hurt. Hiei had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"You're denying much too effusively," Hiei explained. "You've clearly got something to hide, and while I admit you've been overanxious this whole visit, you haven't exactly been so…physical."

With another, weaker smile, Yûsuke dropped his shoulders in a defeated way and squinted his eyes just slightly. "Was I really so obvious?" he asked as though this were all a funny misunderstanding. Hiei did not seem to share this view, but nodded in response.

"If Koenma is keeping tabs on Kurama," he said authoritatively, "tell him to fuck off and keep his presence out of where it's not wanted. If he's keeping tabs on _me_, tell him to start having some more fun with his life while it lasts."

Yûsuke smiled, saluted, and winked. Hiei raised an eyebrow at this display and folded his arms across his chest; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kurama sit on the bed and hoped he would stay there silently. In his condition, he just might say something to convince Yûsuke to go against Hiei's orders and invite himself along on their trip. He couldn't see how much Hiei _didn't_ want any followers on this venture? "Dazed and confused" just had to be parts of this case of "insane," didn't they?

"See you!" Yûsuke said cheerily, seemingly relieved of some daunting task. Hiei wondered at how concerned Koenma had been with sending Yûsuke along and how freely Yûsuke was accepting his failure. That was quite unlike either of them…Koenma knew not to meddle in demon affairs, and Hiei thought it pretty clear he didn't want to be watched. A paranoid part of him was certain Yûsuke would continue trying to come, but an arrogant part was convinced that he had been forceful and intimidating enough that Yûsuke would not bother him again.

Trying to put that out of his mind, Hiei turned back to Kurama and made sure to look stern, even going so far as to put his hands on his hips. "Leave all your things here," he said firmly, "and let's get going."

"Oh, but I can't," Kurama said airily. "I must call Mother and tell her I'll be gone for awhile."

Frustrated, Hiei slapped his hand to his face and pointed to the phone rigidly. "Do it quickly," he said. "Take no more time than you absolutely need."

Happily, Kurama walked over to the phone and picked it up, dialing slowly with one hand as he held the receiver with the other. Hiei contemplated frying the whole contraption when Kurama was finished, for all the trouble it had caused him in merely a few hours, but reasoned that Kurama would only buy a new one. This one was rather aesthetically pleasing, anyway. No sense in an unnecessary replacement.

Oh, but he wanted to torch it so much…

"Mother?" Kurama was saying, his smile half faked, half genuine. Hiei marveled briefly at the mix, eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Yes, I'm well," Kurama said. "…worry? Don't be worrying about me…I know…yes, Mother…"

Hiei wondered if Shiori knew of Kurama's insanity. She might have tried to get him some human help, for all the good it would do. That is to say, none, of course, but humans were odd creatures. If "help" made them feel better about…something, then Hiei could hardly stop them all from getting it.

"Now? Oh, Mother, I—"

Guessing that Shiori was asking to come over just then, Hiei frantically waved his arms and shook his head no. Kurama cocked his head, looking altogether confused, and turning away from Hiei to face the wall.

"—I'm sorry…no, I wish I could see you, but that's the reason I called…you see, an old friend of mine—Hiei, you've met him a few times—recently came into town and he's invited me on a once-in-a-lifetime trip that I simply can't turn down."

Impressive, Hiei thought. Kurama was keeping his head to some degree.

"Yes, I miss you too…I love you too, Mother, but there's no getting around this priceless journey! …where? What do you mean, 'where'?"

She wanted to know where they would be going, did she? Time to see if Kurama's façade was really intact. Hiei waited with baited breath, prepared to disconnect the phone at once if need be.

"Oh, yes, where is the trip to…well, you see, it's not so much the destination as it is what we'll be doing once we get there. …I'm sure to you it would sound rather droll—oh, if you insist, if you insist. We'll simply be seeing yet another of our—well, yes, Mother, you could call her a friend."

You would be deathly wrong, Hiei thought, but you could call Miru a friend. Kurama was doing well so far, but Hiei kept his fingers over the telephone's cradle to disconnect it. He didn't trust the fox or the direction this conversation seemed to be going.

"Of course my friend is here now! Do you think I would simply meet him at the station?" Kurama laughed with a hint of nervousness. Panic began to rise in Hiei's gut. Now what did Shiori want?

"He's…not very sociable," Kurama improvised, Hiei thought somewhat obviously. "I don't know if he'd want—well, I'll ask him…"

Putting his over the receiver's mouthpiece, Kurama lowered his voice to a whisper.

"She wants to talk to you," he said to Hiei. "It might seem suspicious if you don't."

Hiei shook his head quickly. Shiori had met him on two or three occasions; she knew he was not what one might call a "social animal." He had never spoken to her on the phone, either, and Kurama had given him a light pardon as it was. He didn't feel like offering more elaborate excuses than Kurama had and that was surely what Shiori would ask of him. Still, Kurama made doe eyes and tilted his head slightly, putting his hands in a prayer positions over the phone, begging a nonverbal "Please?"

Hiei shook his head again. He was awfully stubborn when he wanted to be (which was, of course, most of the time).

Kurama pouted for a second and went back to the phone.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he said in a vaguely disappointed voice, "but my _friend—_" Hiei noticed but did not react to the subtle inflection "—is being his usual stubborn self. There's absolutely no shaking him. …yes, I swear, it's quite irritating, happening so often as it does…yes, Mother, I'll call you when I get back. …no, no, there won't be any guarantee I'd be around to get the phone, and these message machines are so unreliable."

Hiei looked only the tiniest bit anxious. Kurama's excuses were becoming less and less convincing, even to him, and he knew less about the reliability of the machines than Shiori had to. She might see through his ploy if their chatter didn't end soon. Trying to convey this to the fox with much gesturing and hand-waving, Hiei pointed to the phone's cradle with fierce jabs and mouthed the words "Hang up soon." Kurama nodded dismissively.

"Oh, you know, we'll be so busy, and what with the time differences and whatnot, I don't know how easy it would be for me to find the time to call! …oh, certainly, I'll try. Yes, I promise—no, I haven't given up on a family! …ours or my own. No, Mother. …yes, all right, then. I'll be seeing you."

To Hiei's great and secret relief, Kurama finally hung up.

"Well, then!" Kurama said with a small amount of glee in his voice. "Let's be going, shall we?"

Too startled by the sudden tangent (though Hiei figured he should be, or at least try to be, used to them), Hiei paused, his mouth slack. Kurama took this as an initiative and grabbed Hiei's hand, pulling him to his feet and shuffling around with his other hand in an open drawer.

The noise snapped Hiei out of his brief reverie. "What are you doing?" he asked, nervous for the answer. Kurama looked back with a winning smile and Hiei became more anxious.

"Looking for my communication compact, of course!" he said brightly. Hiei raised an eyebrow. Kurama didn't have a communication compact; Botan had given one to Yûsuke, but that was all. Unless Koenma had given one to Kurama after their return from the last trip five years ago…it must be a sort of monitoring device. Maybe Kurama had been instructed to contact Koenma with certain regularity.

"Don't do that," Hiei said, tugging back on Kurama's hand (as it still grasped his own).

Kurama turned, confusion evident on his features. "Why ever not?"

"I don't want Koenma to know about this trip, if at all possible," Hiei said. "If he should find out once we're gone, I can't stop him, but I would like to keep this private. I don't want anyone interfering and he would surely make this a mission, sending Yûsuke and Kuwabara along to follow us."

"But," Kurama said slowly, "Yûsuke would never go. He has re-retired himself, you know that."

Hiei shook his head. "I think that there is a chance he would come out of retirement for you, if it was for only one mission. I don't want to risk it."

Hiei really did fear that Koenma would try to get himself involved, and he really did want this trip to stay between himself and the crazy fox. He would admit to liking Yûsuke and even being a little fond of Kuwabara, and trusting them both, but he remembered the last time and all the complications caused by certain people walking in on certain other people at certain times…yes, things were best this way.

Pondering Hiei's reasoning for a minute, Kurama shook his head a few times and looked down.

"How would we get there, though?" he asked, sounding oddly disappointed. Hiei waved him off.

"I can arrange for a portal easily," he said. "Don't worry about that. Let's just go, then, what do you say?"

Kurama nodded, his eye bright and childishly excited.

"Let's go!"

* * *

The "certain people walking in on certain other people at certain times" is a reference to the chapters 25 and 26 in "Balance," in which Yûsuke and Kuwabara walk within earshot of Hiei and Kurama just in time to hear Hiei tell Kurama that he loves him. It creates complications, shall we say, which can be named accountable for most of the romance in either that story or this one.


	4. Solitary Right

Disclaimer: who would've thought Utada Hikaru's songs would be for sale on Real Player?

_Fall_

_Is it getting better  
__Or do you feel the same  
__Will it make it easier on you now_  
_You got someone to blame_

_—U2, "One"_

Chapter Three: Solitary Right

Hiei put a finger to his lips as they walked from Kurama's apartment building. True, keeping silent wouldn't get Koenma off their tail (if he was actually tracking them), but it made Hiei feel marginally more secure, so why not? Walking silently down the sidewalk, Hiei glanced out of the corner of his eye to make sure Kurama was following him. Indeed he was, but looking rather more like he was a secret spy on some dangerous mission than the casual fox who perfectly blended in with the human race he was. Hiei rolled his eyes and shook it off, trying not to focus too much on Kurama's absent-mindedness. He concentrated instead on placing one foot in front of the other in a perfectly straight line.

Almost.

Walking on in this manner for some time, Hiei eventually looked back at Kurama again and saw him walking in a similar fashion, apparently trying to mimic Hiei's steps exactly. If Hiei had been leaving footprints, he was sure Kurama would have stepped in them. That wasn't at all odd, he told himself firmly. Not considering the circumstances. People with mental disorders, so they were called, often developed obsessive and peculiar habits, Hiei knew. It was all right.

All right.

Tempted, a few minutes later, to look back at his partner again, Hiei stubbornly determined that he would _not_ turn around until they had reached their destination. He could sense Kurama behind him and visual confirmation was not necessary. The trees in the throes of autumn were pretty; he could look at those, instead. Yes, would you just look at those bright oranges and yellows and reds, Hiei thought idly. How pretty. That poor, dying chlorophyll would be revitalized soon enough. Periodic death was good for something like that.

Kurama's aura still flickered behind him and would you just listen to those dead leaves crunching underfoot! And that wind was wonderful, of course. Not so hard as to slow him down but not so light as to make him question its existence. Nicely autumn-ish. Like some kind of natural coolant.

Natural coolant, that was an interesting thing to think of, Hiei thought sarcastically. He absolutely refused to turn around, though—he would _not_ look for Kurama when he could sense him right there. His energy—slight warping, with a warmish tint to it—was completely accounted for. Hiei would not turn around; there was no need.

Walking blindly back to where he had emerged into the human's realm, Hiei stared at the ground and thought about Yûsuke's appearance back at Kurama's house. It had been awfully inconvenient…hadn't Kurama said on the phone that they had a lot of catching up to do? So they hadn't seen each other in some time. Yet oddly, Yûsuke had chosen that afternoon to call Kurama and propose a visit. He insisted that Koenma had nothing to do with it, but the demigod had a nasty habit of interfering with their team's business when he wasn't wanted. Was it Koenma's doing? Did he worry so much over Kurama's well being? Why? They were all officially out of his services—Kurama kept in contact with him as a matter of convenience. If he ever needed a book from Koenma's library or to monitor an acquaintance or such a thing, it was better to make sure they were on good terms.

But then why was Koenma so concerned with Kurama staying in good mental capacity? Unless he was worried Kurama would go completely insane and try to take over the Earth, he would have no reason to be worried. And Kurama taking over the world…was not something Hiei could see.

Abruptly realizing that he wasn't walking anymore, and hadn't been for some time, Hiei turned around and saw Kurama standing there, placidly watching him with large doe eyes for some reason. He shrugged it off (figuratively—Hiei wouldn't let Kurama know he was even slightly unnerved) and whistled loudly. Kurama watched with some apparent amusement as an imp appeared, handed Hiei something, and promptly had his head chopped off (with much squealing and what sounded like attempted reason). Hiei looked at whatever the imp had given him and incinerated it, pulling together some energy and tearing open a portal.

"What was that?" Kurama asked sweetly, gesturing to the space in which the paper had been burned. Hiei shrugged.

"A note from Mukuro," he said idly. "She wants me to come back now."

"Shouldn't you, then?" Kurama asked. Hiei shook his head.

"This is just a little more important," he said. Kurama smiled brightly and nodded.

"I suppose."

Hiei shoved Kurama forward into the gaping hole and followed at once, closing the gate behind him. Kurama walked purposefully forward, not waiting for Hiei to point the direction—that might have been a good sign. Kurama was keeping himself collected enough to know that these portals were not harmful. Of course, Hiei reflected, he could be so blinded by his foolishness that he forgot to be afraid. Hoping for the former, Hiei pushed on.

Despite all his time to think (which may have seemed longer than it was), the trip was quick and in the dull flash of a closing portal, Hiei and Kurama landed on the ground in Makai. Idly, without the careful and suspicious eye most used when walking around this wasteland of slave trades, death, and prostitution, Kurama looked up at the bloody red sky and wandered off in no particular direction. Leaping over, Hiei took Kurama's shoulders and held him fast, stopping him from getting away.

Feeling more and more like some kind of keeper, Hiei shoved Kurama to the ground and knelt before him.

Kurama smiled. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now," Hiei replied, heaving a deep sigh, "I…don't know. You're Miru's target—is there anywhere she might be waiting for us, although we've arrived unexpectedly?"

"I don't think so," Kurama said with hints of his old reasoning skills leaking into his voice. "There are some haunts I would go to, but anyone who would be waiting there wouldn't really be waiting for us, per say. They would be there as insurance, in case we arrived unexpectedly, as you put it."

"How would that help her?" Hiei asked curtly. Kurama shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked more and more like himself.

"I'm not certain," he said. "Perhaps the person waiting would be merely bait, and she would be using some sort of lookout system to track them all."

Hiei raised an eyebrow. That sounded a little farfetched…so Kurama was close to himself, but not quite there yet. The air, thick with the stench of blood, seemed to be good for him. Could it be reminding him of who he was? Had he forgotten? Hiei shook his head and stood, offering his hand to help Kurama up. The fox didn't take it, but not out of insolence or anything—he seemed to have looked over it, or at least not seen it. Withdrawing his offer with the air of someone who had been burned, Hiei turned in a slow circle, looking around the scenery.

What he was searching for, even he wasn't sure. Some trace of energy he recognized as being part of Miru's crew, perhaps, though the likelihood of sensing anything like that from his present location—almost exactly where the portal had dumped him—was low at best. If he was an extremely lucky person, maybe, but Hiei was not known for his high levels of good fortune.

"Which direction should we go?" he asked idly. Kurama seemed to be as clueless as he felt just then, but maybe he would know where to try to look.

"Oh?" Kurama said, seemingly startled. He turned around, looking like a paranoid deer, and Hiei tried not to laugh at him, instead raising his eyebrow and tilting his head. He didn't want to interrupt, if Kurama was sensing…something (which he seemed to be, or at least trying to).

Then, as though he wasn't paying attention to his own actions, or was in some kind of trance, Kurama pointed due south. Hiei set off at once and it took him a moment to realize that Kurama wasn't following. Turning back around, he looked at his companion quizzically and gestured for him to follow, but the fox was still standing there, staring ahead with muted eyes. Hiei tried gesturing again with more energetic waves, but Kurama didn't seem to notice him at all.

"Kurama!" Hiei said sharply. Blinking a few times, a usual sign of awakening from a daze, Kurama looked at Hiei and nodded. Though this confused the fire demon a great deal, he beckoned Kurama to follow him again and he did so. Resisting the urge to ask Kurama what had happened, for fear he would somehow interpret it as a threat (despite his apparent bits of recovery, the fox was in an extremely unstable place), Hiei walked on, making sure to match his pace to Kurama's. Surprisingly, Kurama looked down at Hiei with sharp eyes and picked up his pace just a little.

"Why are you moving so slowly?" he said in a matching voice. "If we hope to catch Miru, we have to move quickly."

Hiei turned aside under the pretense of getting his bearings, but secretly glared at the scenery. Kurama had no right to speak to him as such—he was only trying to help, and the fox wasn't well off enough (mentally, at least) to be making any judgments at all. Hiei simply nodded, still not looking away from the mountains in the distance. They walked on a bit faster than before.

Idly, Hiei pondered what to do next. He was bored, yes, and he wouldn't act too well under that condition…but he shouldn't be bored. His best friend's—at least, he thought Kurama was still his best friend—anyway, his sanity was teetering between there and not, and that was never good.

So what did he need to do? Get Kurama around Miru and kill the bitch, of course. So…why? To restore Kurama's state of mind. And that was important because Hiei loved him, right? Right, of course. That was the reason. The only reason.

Only because Hiei wanted the love of his life to be better. Because, Hiei continued reasoning, if Kurama was better, Hiei would feel better. And that was really what mattered…dammit, he was trying to do something selfless and it wasn't working out. Help Kurama restore his precious, valuable, brilliant mind so as to keep the fox thinking clearly and thinking like himself. Then Kurama would be all better and then Kurama would be happy. That was good, that was thinking about someone else. But such a thought as that…thinking about someone else was making him self_less_, but taking pride in that was self_ish_. Dammit!

Even beyond that base degree, was Hiei really trying to restore Kurama's mind for Kurama's sake? If Kurama was well, then Hiei could go to him with all his own problems and seek advice. Kurama would be able to help, which would make Hiei feel better. So Hiei helping Kurama was really…only to help Hiei in the long run. This was why selflessness was never worth it, Hiei thought bitterly. None of it was _really_ selfless at all, and it was better not to pretend.

"Indeed," he said, partly reflecting his own thoughts, partly in late response to Kurama's earlier insistence.

"Hurry along, then," Kurama said slightly snappishly, picking up his own pace and forcing Hiei to follow suit.

Awkwardly tripping in surprise, Hiei quickly matched Kurama's pace and walked in step with him. Role reversal, he thought with a little resentment. Wasn't _he_ supposed to be the sane one? In other words, the one to keep control? Yet here was Kurama, being distinctly un-Kurama and ordering (at least, as good as ordering) Hiei to move faster. As though he wanted Hiei around him, which was odd.

Frustrating as this all was, though, it was a good sign—sort of. Kurama wasn't necessarily keeping his head, but at least he was trying to take control of the situation. That was…good. Yes…good.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Hiei asked suddenly, realizing that _he_ had no idea where they were headed. Kurama blinked, seemingly startled—at what, Hiei couldn't tell—and looked at his partner incredulously.

"Of course I do," he said. "Don't you?"

"To find Miru," Hiei guessed sarcastically.

"Yes, of course," Kurama said. Hiei did a quick double-take. He hadn't been _serious_…but Kurama was nodding, and from what Hiei could tell, he wasn't in a mood to joke, so he must be!

Choosing not to comment, Hiei nodded as well, his expression (still facing aside) turning silently stunned. Maybe he should stop talking entirely…which would only leave him with his thoughts, and those weren't cheerful or uplifting, or even comforting at all. Hiei frowned. Damn, but this was frustrating.

"Do you know where she is?" he ventured after a little while. Kurama looked down at him, and he stared back, his eyes slightly narrowed. He was clearly doubtful, but whether or not Kurama would pick up on that, he wasn't sure. He hoped not, something he usually wouldn't be able to do due to Kurama's acute sense of others' emotions. But in this case…it was possible. Even likely.

"She's this way," Kurama said simply, gesturing forward. Hiei nodded, his face falling a little. He had known that, and Kurama pointing it out was another sign of his absent mind. Oh, well. They would work on that.

"Right, then," he said quietly. Things would be better. Eventually, they had to be. Eventually.

So they walked, and walked, and walked a little more. Finally, after what seemed like hours (and probably was), Kurama stopped walking and pointed again. Hiei looked at him curiously and waited for some explanation of this random act.

"It's not her," Kurama said, "but it feels like her. Like she was there."

"Is there _someone_ there?" Hiei asked, recalling the wild goose chase Miru had sent them on for the last mission.

"Someone…" Kurama trailed off. "Yes, someone. Someone weak."

Hiei huffed and rolled his eyes. Someone weak—so this was very much like the chase they had run last time. Wonderful.

"Can you pinpoint him?" Hiei asked anyway. Kurama nodded, pointing again.

"There. Let's go, shall we?"

"…indeed."

---

For the third time in a row, Yûsuke picked up his telephone and dialed Kurama's apartment. The fox had been acting weird when he'd visited, and he'd suspected that something was about to happen. Something big that he might or might not be involved in. Being the curious little beaver he was, he wanted in—whether he was involved or not.

"Come on come on…" he muttered as the phone rang. Three chimes…four…

"Hello!"

"Kurama! Finally!"

"This is the Minamino Shûichi residence. I'm not in right now…"

Cursing violently, Yûsuke slammed down the phone. He knew he shouldn't be so angry, but he had only just seen Kurama and Hiei, yet let slip the chance to talk to…them?

Them…

Hiei must have something to do with this. Hiei meant a trip to Makai, almost certainly. Hiei and Kurama in Makai meant…ohh.

Damn that sneaky bastard.

Of course, that left only one course of action (well, two, actually): call Koenma. Then call Kuwabara. Looking up at the ceiling, Yûsuke decided to use an old, tried-and-true method of contacting the world of the dead.

"BOTAAAN!"

Yûsuke waited a few seconds and tilted his head further back, drawing in another breath.

"_BOTAAAN_!"

Another few seconds passed. Yûsuke was getting a little annoyed; he might actually have to make the effort to go see Koenma at his castle.

"_BO_—"

"All right, all right, I heard you!" Botan appeared out of midair, as she often did. Twirling her oar, she stored it in a private pocket in the space time continuum and shook her head as though clearing water from her ears. "What is it?"

"What took you so long?" Yûsuke asked impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest. Botan crossed her eyes in an annoyed glare, her lower lip protruding just slightly and her arms crossed as well, her hip thrown out.

"So long?" she asked. "I got here as quickly as I could! I only just heard you—what, am I supposed to be psychic, able to read your thoughts from dimensions away? And what kind of greeting is that after all this time? 'What took you so long,' he says."

Huffing his irritation, Yûsuke sharply shook his head and spread his hands a little pleadingly. "Kurama's gone off," he explained, "and I was just over at his place earlier today."

"So?" Botan asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's hardly official business. He's probably at the store or something."

"No, no," Yûsuke said determinedly, shaking his head. "When I was over there, Hiei was, too. I think he got Kurama to go with him to Makai to—"

"—confront Miru," Botan finished with a small breath. "This is bad, very bad."

"I know!"

---

This trudging had been going on for quite some time. Hiei was getting annoyed and more than a little bored.

"How—" he stopped himself short of saying "How much longer?" Kurama looked down curiously, his pace (which was now quite fast) never faltering.

"Where is our destination?" Hiei asked instead. "From here, how much farther?"

That was basically the same question, he reasoned, but asked less childishly. It would do for just then.

Kurama looked around curiously, like an animal gaining its bearings, and gestured somewhere ahead of them. Hiei wondered if he actually knew where they were going or if he was only following his instinct. He wasn't sure which option he would prefer.

"Not far," Kurama elaborated. "See that villa there? It's just a bit beyond that. Maybe underground."

Underground, Hiei thought bitterly. This was _exactly_ like the goose chase. Damn it all, why was she so fixated on his friend? It couldn't be Kuwabara, in which case this whole ordeal would be Yûsuke's problem. Damn!

"Let's hurry," Hiei said, hiding his impatience well enough and breaking into a sprint he knew Kurama would barely be able to keep up with. Sure enough, he did, and they made it to the villa's far boarder in record time.

"Right there," Kurama said, walking up to a scruffy-looking house and looking at the ground it rested on. Hiei stood beside him and looked down, as well. The dirt was soft and gravelly—easy to break. This shouldn't be too hard.

Stabbing his sword into the earth, Hiei set it all on fire and waited for the burn to die.

---

Ooh, and we're about to meet Miru's first lackey thing. No, this "goose chase," as Hiei calls it, will not be exactly like the one in "Balance." Similar, yes. The same, no. It gets even better later on.

The next chapter (or…not the next, but soon) _should_ be focused at least a little more on Yûsuke and Kuwabara in Ningenkai. There is a tiny, slightly humorous side story going on with them as they try to track down Koenma and to find out where Kurama and Hiei have gone off to, precisely, and how they can get there ASAP. So in the meantime, be patient, forgive me for posting two new pieces before this chapter, and review, review, review.


	5. Darkness Inside

Disclaimer: oh, man, I'm such a dork…so sad.

_Fall_

_Escape a world that cannot see  
all that's empty lies in me.  
To try again and start anew,  
and make the change to help me through._

_—Unknown_

Chapter Four: Darkness Inside

Kurama nodded approvingly as the ground turned to a hideous sort of bubbling mud. Gurgling unpleasantly, it caved in on itself, revealing, of all things, a passageway underneath, the floor of which was now covered in the molten stuff. Hiei carelessly dragged his fingers down the blade, flicking off much of the muck before sheathing it again. This was basically what Kurama had predicted, and basically what he had least wanted to find. He despised following bait.

"Come on, then," Kurama said, lowering himself into the hole. Hiei followed with a moment's hesitation. It wasn't as though he would actually stay behind, but this course of action seemed rash for Kurama's style…he would expect it of Yûsuke more than he would of the fox.

They landed in the mud with a loud squelching noise. Kurama daintily lifted his foot and looked down on it with some disdain, trying with little success to shake it clean. Hiei ignored the wet sensation around his boots and walked into the darkness of the tunnel, expecting Kurama to follow (which he did). According to their previous experiences with Miru and her games, if one could call them that (undignified as they were), there should be some dispensable lackey hanging around these tunnels somewhere. Ideally, they would find the lackey, extract any possible information from him, and kill him. Easy, easy.

Thieving instincts kicking in, Kurama walked away from the mud and removed his shoes to silence his steps. Deciding it was better to adhere to Kurama's unnecessary whims than ignore them, Hiei removed his own shoes, as well, and continued walking, a bit ahead of the fox (who, Hiei noted, was making no effort to catch up).

There were no powerful traces of energy around, meaning one of three things: they were completely wrong and no one was waiting for them…they were too early and Miru had not yet set a trap for them…or they were exactly on schedule and couldn't yet sense the weak presence awaiting them. Hiei sort of hoped it was the latter, although it went against his nature to actually desire a weak opponent. At least they would know they were going the right direction.

"Do you sense anything?" he asked after a bit of walking. There was a slight pause before Kurama replied.

"No, but we're going the right way."

"Of course we are," Hiei thought irritably. "There's only one way _to_ go."

The tunnel seemed eternal. As they walked on, the dirt became less and less packed, as though any adventurers had turned back some time ago. Hiei could understand why—he was becoming a little hopeless, himself. This darkness never ended and he still felt no trace of another life form anywhere nearby (other than Kurama, he amended). And his only company was…not much in the way of company. Kurama was still stubbornly muted and Hiei didn't want to start a conversation with someone who wouldn't respond.

Then, suddenly, there was a small light…at the end of the tunnel. Cursing himself for the clichéd mental image, Hiei picked up his pace a little and tried to intensify his reikan so as to sense anyone lying in wait. There was a faint, faint tingle of something lying _somewhere_, he could tell. What it was, however, was something of a mystery. Kurama, who seemed to have noticed as well, matched his pace to Hiei's and stared ahead intently, his teeth visibly gritted.

Approaching the light, they each flattened themselves against opposite walls, reaching out their senses to find the presence lurking inside. There it was, a weak demon. Exchanging a glance, they silently agreed to take this foe carefully, not springing out or bearing their weapons right away. Kurama gestured to himself, indicating that he would go first. Hiei nodded, pleased at Kurama's level headedness.

Walking silently into the room, Kurama checked to make sure his seeds were accessible—just in case—and cleared his throat. The demon, a large human-esque creature with a slight stoop, long blonde hair, and enormous blue bug-eyes, turned from the wall he was staring at and spread his hands out wide, faint flickers of energy surrounding each.

"_Kompsos lampo cordoni_—"

In a blur, Kurama had flung a narrow vine around the demon, pinning them to his sides and startling him out of his chant.

"Who are you heathens?" the creature screamed instead, his bug eyes becoming even larger.

Kurama put his hands up, attempting to be placating. Hiei rounded the corner, making sure to stay in the dark—he had been told that his so-called "non-threatening" expressions were more frightening than his neutral ones, and he didn't need this prospective wealth of information to become scared and closed off.

"We don't want to hurt you," Kurama was saying. "We're not heathens—in fact, we want to help you."

"Is it her power you're after?" the creature hissed. "Because she's told me—_promised_ me—it's all mine, you hear? All mine!"

Kurama raised and lowered his eyebrows once, but remained otherwise passive. "Indeed it is," he said soothingly. "I know. I don't want her power, it's all yours. I only want information."

"I won't betray my mistress," the demon spat. Kurama shook his head, smiling softly.

"I understand," he said. Hiei hung back but wondered if Kurama really knew what he was doing.

"Then what do you want?" the demon asked, his voice still attempting to be threatening.

"What is your name, good sir?" Kurama asked. Hiei caught the note of satire in his tone and hoped the demon was not so adept.

"Sareru," the demon said suspiciously. Kurama's smile widened and he slowly lowered his hands.

"Well, Sareru," Kurama said, "what exactly is it your mistress has promised you?"

At this, Sareru seemed to take on a completely different air. He drew himself up, not completely out of his slouch, and pressed a fist to his chest in what might have been pride. Kurama raised an eyebrow and Hiei took it as a sign of danger. He prepared himself to step in at once.

"My mistress," Sareru declared, "has promised me the secret to her power if I fulfill my mission."

"Oh?" Kurama asked. His low tone indicated danger more clearly, and Hiei became nervous.

"Yes," Sareru continued with a wide grin. "If I fulfill my mission and loyally remain in this hovel until my mistress comes for me, she will grant me the power of the Choir."

At that, Kurama's eyes narrowed impossibly thin and his voice came out low and feral around his bared fangs.

"Your mistress," he growled. "Miru. She is nothing more than a lying, cheating freak. You would be wise not to believe her."

"I have no choice," Sareru declared. "Her power far surpasses my own and I do not wish for her to kill me! With her Choir, I could destroy her and rule all of this realm!"

"It never occurred to you," Kurama went on, "that if Miru didn't kill you, whoever she was using you to catch might finish the job for her?"

Sareru's eyes became larger still, but he controlled the stutter in his voice as he made a bold proclamation: "You cannot kill me, for I am protected by my mistress!"

"Your mistress," Kurama said dangerously, "does not _love_ you. She does not _care_ for you. She probably does not even _remember_ you. She will not _protect_ you."

"She will!"

"Ah, poor soul," Kurama said in mock sorrow. Fearing that Kurama was about to do something stupid, Hiei stepped forward, but so caught up in the moment as they were, neither Kurama nor Sareru noticed him.

"I am not poor while I have—"

"—the protection," Kurama finished coldly, "of your mistress."

"In—"

Sareru never finished his last word; a fraction of a second after it was started, his body was lying in pieces on the floor, Kurama's Rose Whip dripping with his dark blood. Hiei, caught in mid lunge, landed on the floor with a soft "splash" as his feet hit the puddles of blackish liquid. Ignoring the squelching sound in his boots, he stalked over to Kurama and caught him up by the collar.

"Why did you do that?" he asked softly, his voice sending a chill up Kurama's spine yet somehow burning with intensity all the same.

"Do what?" Kurama asked, maintaining his sullen façade.

Hiei pointed stiffly at Sareru's broken body, lying all across the room. Kurama followed his gesture and looked at all the scattered pieces, his indifference never wavering.

"What is that?" Hiei hissed dangerously.

"Exactly what it looks like," Kurama said, beginning to sound irritated. "I am purging this world of the wretch that is Miru."

"And what will that accomplish?" Hiei snarled, thrusting his face into Kurama's. "You think you can wipe every trace of her from this realm? Impossible!"

Glaring, Kurama slapped Hiei's hand from his shirt and narrowed his eyes once more. "You think I don't know that? There is a darkness inside of me that cannot be quenched until Miru is dead!"

Hiei frowned, dwelling on his options. Kurama was no longer crazy, it seemed, but that could be because his mind was filled with hate. That was not much better; it would cause him to act irrationally in the same way a lacking mentality would. And what could he do to tip the situation towards normalcy? He could start by agreeing that Kurama needed to kill Miru, and it would probably serve him well to dismiss Sareru's death as a casualty of war. He had been dangerously close to letting his anger overcome him; they would need to find a new informant, but Kurama might have let go of a tiny shred of his fury, so that was a good thing. Yes, Hiei told himself firmly, a _good_ thing. Don't be angry at good things.

"Very well," Hiei said tersely, stepping back. "We'll need to find another of Miru's drones. Have you got any idea where to look?"

"Maybe some."

* * *

Botan jumped up and down a little, wringing her hands and muttering about how Hiei shouldn't have done "that" and Kurama shouldn't have gone "there." Yûsuke was, for once, trying to think logically and come up with a course of action, something made horribly difficult when he couldn't quite shut out Botan's high-pitched whining.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, okay. We need to find Kurama."

"And Hiei!" Botan chimed in nervously, still hopping around.

"And Hiei," Yûsuke added. "Okay. So we need to find Kurama and Hiei, and we need to get them to let us in on what is going on and why they thought it was a good idea to try it without any of the rest of us."

"Okay," Botan said with all attempted seriousness (slightly detracted from by her larger-than-normal eyes and slightly quivering lower lip).

Yûsuke paused, looking at Botan in a silent plea for a suggestion. She was a tad distracted to come up with anything, or even notice his unspoken request. Naturally, Yûsuke took it on himself to, well, inform her of it.

"…how're we going to do that?"

Botan looked at him for a second as this set in. Her business-like tone hadn't settled over her demeanor yet, it seemed, as she began to panic again.

"_I don't know_!" she wailed. Yûsuke slapped his forehead and closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the migraine that was sure to come. He needed to think…think of something to do…right then…something like…

…find Hiei and Kurama.

No, that didn't help. He needed to find Hiei and Kurama, and to find Hiei and Kurama, which was something he could not do, he needed to find someone who _could_ find Hiei and Kurama. Someone who could find anyone at any time. Someone who wouldn't lose his cool when faced with such a proposition. Someone who might try to kill him for asking, but would get the job done.

Someone like Koenma.

Damn, he had really hoped he would never need to call in a favor with the demigod. Koenma got so smug when he thought he was in power.

"_Botan_!" Yûsuke snapped, drawing the ferry girl back to reality as she looked at him anxiously. "We—_I_ need to talk to Koenma. Can you get me to his office?"

"Well, of course I can," she said irritably, and Yûsuke clenched his teeth at her sudden change in manner. "Come on, if you had told me that right off, we could be there by now!"

"Then let's go _now_, why don't we?" he said, his teeth grinding. She nodded, grabbed her oar out of nowhere, and hopped on.

"Let's be off, then," she said, patting the paddle behind her in an indication for him to sit. He put a finger to his chin thoughtfully, staring off at the ceiling.

"What's wrong now?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. Yûsuke looked at her and smiled in a way that said "You're going to scold me for this and I don't know why."

"Let's get Kuwabara."

* * *

Hiei had been more or less blindly following Kurama for a ways, having blown out the top of the tunnel so as to make a quick escape. He wasn't too fond of confined spaces. Kurama seemed to know where he was going, anyway, although Hiei had to admit, the situation had been basically the same before they had met Sareru. He hadn't had much faith then, and it had been under mysterious circumstances that Kurama had located Sareru so efficiently. That trance had been most peculiar, and chances were low it would happen again.

Still, Hiei followed without question, trusting Kurama to guide the way. A bad habit of his, he supposed, believing in Kurama so willingly, but…well, he didn't really have an excuse. Things just went that way.

With a small, imperceptible movement, Kurama tilted his head and glanced over at Hiei. His demon companion had been oddly quiet, even for him, for the entire walk; Kurama wondered if he was brooding. That would be a bad thing, indicating that he was angry or frustrated over something. Neither of them needed that just then, although, as the stench of death in the air returned some of Kurama's clarity of thought, he realized that a common solution might work: talk it out.

"Do you sense anything?" he asked amicably. Hiei looked at him strangely, as though he had suddenly undergone some sort of unexpected physical transformation. Seemingly, Hiei hadn't even been trying to sense anything, leaving that all to Kurama.

"No," he said suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. "Why? Do you?"

"No," Kurama said, shrugging. "I thought you might have picked up on something I hadn't, that's all. Are you feeling all right?"

"Am _I_—?" Hiei asked, seemingly offended. "I'm not the one whose mentality is in question!"

Kurama couldn't help but take some offense at that remark. He knew he wasn't doing perfectly well, but he wouldn't say his mentality was in question…that seemed harsh. He was only a little concerned.

Maybe more than a little, but certainly nothing more than that.

Hiei, much to Kurama's satisfaction, had clapped his hands to his mouth as soon as the words had spilled forth. At least he realized he had said something wrong. That was something. Hiei couldn't bring himself to apologize, and Kurama knew it, but Kurama recognized regret when he saw it and he was calmed.

"Well," Kurama said, unable to keep the stiffness from his tone, "I suppose we'll keep wandering, then, shall we?"

"Yes," Hiei muttered, pointedly looking anywhere but at the fox.

Silence fell, awkward and cold, and Kurama almost shivered. Hiei was being distinctly distant, but that wasn't the entirety of the cause. It was almost as though Kurama himself was harboring some loathing that was filtered into the air without his knowing. He tried to ignore it and failed, shifting uncomfortably.

He could think of only one thing to say, anyway.

"Why didn't you stop me?"

Hiei gaped, not missing a step. "Stop you?" he asked disbelievingly. "You can't be serious."

"And why is that?" Kurama asked, not entirely seriously.

"I tried to stop you!" Hiei cried, a small drop of hysteria leaking into his voice. "I jumped forward to halt your movement, but I didn't think you would _really_ be so stupid as to kill our only lead!"

"Stupid?" Kurama asked icily.

"Yes!"

Tossing his hair back over his shoulder, Kurama closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a few seconds before replying.

"You think I'm stupid?"

Hiei raised his hands in a wild shrug. "I think you _were_!"

Kurama glared down at his partner. "You would."

"_What_?"

"Hm!"

Kurama turned his chin up, perfectly aware of how childish he appeared and failing to care. Hiei had no right to speak to him so harshly or with such disbelief. His mentality was in disorder, yes, but he wasn't suddenly an idiot! He was Kurama, for gods' sakes! He didn't make those kinds of mistakes…he didn't.

He didn't even know why he was so angry at Hiei. He knew why he was displeased, at least, but he usually had much better reign on his emotions, and Hiei was known to act coldly like this. It couldn't be his mind; he was Kurama, and he was very smart. There was no way his mind was falling to pieces. Absolutely none. The problem must be coming from somewhere outside, maybe from—

"Why did you say that?" Hiei asked softly, effectively interrupting Kurama's thoughts. He sounded genuinely hurt, and Kurama tried to feel bad that he was the cause. It was hard.

"I…I don't know," he said, and neither of the two made any effort to look at the other.

Hiei made a grunting noise that sounded like disbelief as he folded his arms over his chest. He didn't seem to accept that, and truthfully, Kurama didn't, either. He wasn't sure why he'd said it. He wasn't sure of many things.

"Are you sorry?" Hiei asked. Kurama did look down at him now, his eyes softened.

"I—"

"Don't say you are," Hiei interrupted, "unless you mean it."

Kurama paused. He had been about to apologize without thinking, but did he really mean it? Was he sorry he had been so snippy to his companion? Would he do it again?

Damn, but this was frustrating.

"I don't think I am," he said finally. Hiei snorted, his eyes narrowed and his mouth curved in a resentful smirk.

"Didn't think so. I don't know why I waste my time on you when you're so hopeless."

"So leave me, then."

"Maybe I will."

Kurama felt his breath hitch in his throat.

* * *

_Kompsos lampo cordoni:_ Greek. Not literal, as there is no sentence structure to speak of (so no one tell me I can't write Greek, because I know I can't, and for my purposes, neither can Sareru), but word for word: "Elegant glitter cord." 


	6. Shall I

Disclaimer: you know how people sometimes say, "She tries so hard…"? And they always mean "…and fails"? I'm her. The one who fails.

_Fall_

_The game of life is hard to play  
I'm gonna lose it anyway  
The losing card I'll someday lay  
So this is all I have to say_

—_Mike Altman, "Suicide is Painless"_

Chapter Five: Shall I

Botan sighed heavily. This was becoming a "mission," even when it wasn't. Yûsuke could easily get Kurama and Hiei on his own, once Koenma found them, and Kuwabara's appearance was a little too nostalgic for her tastes. "The good old days" had been so much…not easier, but maybe more fun.

"Come on!" Yûsuke said, jostling the oar from where he sat behind Botan.

Well, Botan pondered, some remnants of "the good old days" were less "good" than others.

"I'm going, I'm going," she said irritably, pulling up on the oar and flying out the window. Yûsuke ducked as the frame nearly whacked him over the head.

"Watch it!" he yelped. Botan smirked, even though the near-accident had been, in fact, accidental.

The flew in straight lines, for the most part, and at relatively steady speeds. Very fast speeds, but steady nonetheless, and Yûsuke was vaguely grateful for that. His lunch might be rising up in his throat, but he was sure that with any more jerks in their path, he would have lost it awhile ago.

"Where's Kuwabara's house, again?" Botan asked through the winds screaming past them. Not trusting himself to speak, Yûsuke pointed at a nearby building and made a wild gesture, something like "Land now, you crazy psychopath, and I'll tell you." Rolling her eyes with a certain melodrama, Botan swooped down, turned a violent loop-the-loop, and landed at the indicated lawn.

Yûsuke fell from the oar and retched loudly. Botan grimaced and recoiled.

Staggering to his feet a few moments later, Yûsuke panted a couple of times and shook his head. "Right," he said firmly, "what was I going to tell you?"

Botan slapped a hand to her forehead. "Where," she said thinly, "is Kuwabara's house?"

"Oh, yeah…one train stop away from mine in the opposite direction from where we're going right now."

Botan stared with some incredulity at Yûsuke as this information was processed from her ears to her brain.

"…excuse me?"

"I said, one—"

"I heard you," she interrupted tersely.

"Then why—" Yûsuke marked his speech with a jab at her chest "—did you say 'excuse me'?"

Botan batted him away with an annoyed mutter and hopped back on her oar, slapping the back of it and gesturing for him to get on. Yûsuke sensed that this would not be a particularly pleasant ride, but climbed up anyway.

"Uh…"

Botan smirked devilishly and Yûsuke's sinking feeling sunk lower.

"Hold on tight."

* * *

Hiei heard the small disruption in Kurama's breath and smiled with no trace of humor. Kurama really didn't want him to go, then. Most interesting. He would think to exploit that fact in a bitter way if he wasn't bogged down by such utter adoration for the fox. 

"Therefore release me," Kurama said, his tone strained but firm, and whether he was quoting from something or speaking metaphysically, Hiei couldn't tell. "And depart on your way."

With that formal dialect, it was almost certainly a quote Hiei didn't know, he thought, or Kurama was sliding back down sanity's ladder. Not only had it been ridiculously old-fashioned wording, but it had been English, of all languages. Hiei was glad to be well versed in the tongue, but it was still strange.

"You want me gone?" Hiei asked, although he knew the answer was "no."

"Maybe I do."

A little startled, Hiei widened his eyes the barest fraction of an inch. He wasn't sure if Kurama noticed or not. He had been so sure Kurama would say he wanted Hiei to stay—but then, he must be losing his mind a little bit again. Or maybe he was just being stubborn. Hiei was _certain_ Kurama wanted him around, absolutely _certain_. Kurama was just standing by his own choices, refusing to admit he might have been a little rash in his exclamation earlier. That was it, he was being inflexible.

What else could Hiei do but call the bluff?

"Well," he said stiffly, trying to hide his nervousness and not completely succeeding, "if you decide you need me after all, I'll be around. You'll just have to find me."

Kurama sniffed, out of smugness or bottled up tears, but Hiei couldn't tell the difference. "Rest assured, if things become so dire, you'll know."

"I'm sure I will."

"Oh, don't even concern yourself."

"I'm not."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye, indeed."

Kurama and Hiei both sensed the terse, awkward, altogether forced nature of the exchange, but neither stepped forward to do anything about it. As Hiei turned his back on the fox, he stepped forward a few times, refraining from flitting away in the hopes that Kurama would stop him at the last second.

He did no such thing.

"Farewell," Kurama called, and Hiei thought he detected the smallest hint of desperation in his voice. Shame, though, that he couldn't go back to the fox unless requested. His pride would simply not allow it. He really did want to protect Kurama—no, not protect him. Merely stand alongside him. Kurama could protect himself, Hiei berated his traitorous thoughts. He noticed that he was sitting in a tree, and hoped that he had leapt into it so quickly that Kurama thought he was long gone. He would trail his partner (were they still partners, he wondered), he was sure, but he didn't need to be broadcasting that fact to anyone.

Kurama stood staring off in the direction Hiei appeared to have gone for some time before he turned and walked away. Having nearly fallen asleep waiting, Hiei had to rouse himself considerably before following. And follow he did—twenty kilometers later, he was started to fret that Kurama had sensed him and was simply ignoring him as an act of hostility. No, he berated himself, Kurama was now distracted by finding Miru, he couldn't sense Hiei because Hiei was keeping his energy suppressed.

Right. Absolutely.

Kurama stopped to take a rest, and Hiei, having nearly leapt to another tree to keep following, had to cling wildly to the branch he had just been about to spring from so as to keep from falling to the ground. Ignoring his severely lacking dignity, Hiei pulled himself back to his perch and watched Kurama sit. The fox didn't _seem_ to have noticed him, and unless he was suddenly being wily, he wasn't just doing a great job pretending.

Hiei let himself rock back against the tree's trunk as his thoughts wandered.

Who, what, when, where, why, how. Kurama, following, now, because he loved him, secretly. That was that, wasn't it? He was certainly following Kurama because he loved him, and it was absolutely happing right then, and he was doing it secretly, so that was all right. But his mind, in its annoying way, decided to overanalyze his answers.

Kurama. Absolutely. That was a solid truth that could not be debated.

Following. Yes, that was what he _said_, but really? Was he following Kurama or was he watching over him? Trying to protect him? Hanging around in case Kurama decided to go back and look for him? Hoping Kurama really did know he was being tracked and letting it slide because it was Hiei? All of the above?

Now. Another absolute truth.

Because he loved him. Eh…maybe. Or was it because _he_ wished to be loved? Waiting for Kurama to notice him, he waited in close proximity so that Kurama could, if he so desired, turn around and fling himself at Hiei with sappy proclamations of affection and ask him to stay.

Secretly. In character, probably, but how in character was he being? His energy was masked, that was for sure, but was it masked well? Yes…but maybe not as well as it could have been. From time to time, little trickles leaked out, easily sensed by anyone with spiritual awareness as strong as, say, Kurama's.

He should have foreseen such technicalities.

Kurama was lying on his side now, staring off into the forest bordering his path with sad eyes. Hiei watched curiously as Kurama trailed an intricate but random path in the dirt with his fingernails. The line was full of sharp corners and jagged edges, and Hiei wondered why it was there. Surely Kurama couldn't be so distraught by his leaving for it to come forth in his subconscious like that. Maybe he should go back—

No. He couldn't recall his principles like that, specifically his principle of standing his ground. One couldn't survive in Makai without such principles, and he wasn't going to change his for anyone, not even Kurama. At least, not right then.

But he did love him, so much. He couldn't help thinking that he had made a mistake letting any emotion at all into his heart, but he loved being in love. Of course, if he wasn't in love at all, he wouldn't love it, which would solve the problem completely.

Was it even worth being in love if the feeling wasn't reciprocated? Would it matter how much he enjoyed feeling that way if Kurama felt differently and his emotion would never amount to anything? The resulting torment couldn't be worth the feeling, could it? Nah…torment was never worth anything.

But a soft, lilting voice…shiny yet slightly damaged hair…glittering, saddened eyes…Hiei couldn't stand to see Kurama suffer, much less suffer for him. He started to swing down from the branch when he heard Kurama begin muttering to himself. Pulling himself back up, Hiei settled down to listen.

"I don't even know anymore…" Kurama began morosely, and Hiei wondered what he had missed.

"I don't know if I'm still sane…"

Hiei thought he knew, but he didn't want to say it for fear he was wrong.

"I don't know if I know what I want…"

Hiei didn't dare to hope that Kurama even thought he wanted him.

"Being wanted became a thrill I never knew…"

So then Kurama didn't know Hiei was crazy for him?

"Shall I continue this bitter farewell?"

Bitter farewell…?

Kurama fell silent once more, and Hiei turned that last phrase over in his mind. Shall I continue this bitter farewell? One did not usually continue farewells, but made them and then ended the situation. Was this journey—nay, even Kurama's life simply a lengthy farewell? But that could only mean death. Kurama's life was a long prelude to death. Well, that was all right, everyone was in the same fix.

Shall I…

Hiei peered through the branches to watch Kurama as he continued to twirl the lines in the dirt.

Continue.

The alternative, what Kurama seemed to be considering, would be the ceasing of his life. Death.

Shall I continue this bitter farewell?

Shall I end this life?

This life…

His eyes suddenly snapping open, Hiei catapulted himself from the tree and landed right beside Kurama. Rolling him over onto his back with a forceful jerk, Hiei raised his fist to punch Kurama's face.

The fox's eyes were closed, and his breathing slow. The color drained from Hiei's face.

"You're not hurt, Kurama," he said firmly, his wide eyes badly betraying his hardened tone. "You're not hurt. Get up, this is a stupid game."

Kurama still didn't move, and Hiei grabbed his collar to pull him up into a seated position.

"Kurama," he said scathingly, "you're being an idiot. You're not an idiot, so get up and stop faking stupid injuries."

Nothing. Hiei's fright grew exponentially.

"Kurama," he said with a hint of panic. "This is the part where your eyes open and you tell me you tricked me, got that? Come _on_. I haven't got time for this!"

Finally, with a tiny tremor, Kurama's eyelids fluttered, but did not open. Taking it as a positive sign nonetheless, Hiei shoved him a little more and slapped his face. Looking down at his hand (what a strangely feminine action, he berated it), he shook it off and yanked Kurama's shirt from side to side, dragging his body along.

"Come on!" he shouted. "What have you done to yourself?"

More fluttering; Hiei could call it twitching now, and Kurama seemed to be trying to awaken. Odd…but good, regardless. Hiei shook him a little more until his eyes opened a tiny crack.

Kurama mouthed a word or two, and Hiei nearly throttled him.

"What was that?" he said, not completely harsh.

"What are you doing?" Kurama said in a low whisper. Hiei raised one eyebrow as he crossed the other, creating a look of pure perplexity.

"Trying to wake you, stupid," he said flatly. "What are _you_ doing?"

Kurama gave a tinny laugh that would have sounded hollow if he'd had more of a voice. "Trying to kill me, stupid."

Put out at being called "stupid," Hiei filed that information away for later berating as he shook his head firmly. "I won't let you."

"You can't do anything," Kurama said. "The plants are already entering my bloodstream, and once—"

In a rash movement, Hiei violently turned Kurama over and saw a thin vine growing out of the back of his neck. Successfully ignoring the amount of pain he was sure to cause, Hiei yanked the vine out, roots and all, and watched Kurama's blood drip from them with morbid fascination as the fox hacked a violent cough.

"What did you do?" Kurama choked, grasping at his neck. He felt as though all the muscles and veins in his throat were being shoved against his skin and trying to break free. Hiei helped Kurama sit up again and showed him the vines, with an expression so innocent he might have been a child showing his mother a worm he found in the garden.

Kurama took the vines with shaking fingers and his eyes narrowed as the blood dripped down his wrist. "You pulled these out of me."

"Out of your neck," Hiei confirmed. "How did you get them in there without my noticing?"

Turning his head aside, Kurama made a point of not looking at Hiei. "It's not your concern."

Grasping Kurama's chin, Hiei forced his face up so as to lock their gazes. "Oh, but I think it is. In fact, I think I know how you did it, Plant Master."

"Then why bother asking?"

Hiei smiled thinly. "I want to hear you say it."

* * *

"Define 'tight,'" Yûsuke said as Botan landed her oar right in Kuwabara's front yard. "There's no way any tightness of grip could have kept me on that stick without a harness." 

"Oh, come now," Botan said playfully. "You only fell off twice. And it's not a stick, it's an oar."

"Whatever."

Giggling in schoolgirl-ish manner, Botan "pocketed" her oar. Waving Yûsuke on, she walked up to Kuwabara's door as though she owned the place, her hips swinging just slightly. Rolling his eyes, Yûsuke followed and tried to pretend he wasn't associated with her.

She rapped her knuckles loudly on the door, her other hand on her hip. No one came for a minute or so, and Botan knocked again.

"Kuwabara!" she shouted. "Shizuru! Anyone home?"

Yûsuke looked up to Kuwabara's window and squinted against the sun. A figure, or at least the shadow of one, seemed to be lurking in his friend's room. Being upstairs with the window closed, and probably the door as well, Kuwabara wouldn't be able to hear anyone shouting at the front stoop, no matter how loud.

Putting a hand on Botan's shoulder to shut her up for a moment, Yûsuke focused on his energies and his aura spiked dramatically. Kuwabara's window was open in a flash, the distinctly distraught man peering out warily.

Kuwabara caught sight of the pair of them almost at once. "Hey, Urameshi! Botan! What're you two doing here?"

"Waiting to be let in, dumbass!" Yûsuke shouted back. "Is your sister home?"

Kuwabara thought for a moment before answering. "No, I don't think so! I'll be down in a sec!"

Botan was rubbing her ears when Yûsuke wandered back to the front door, her eyes tightly shut as she tried to focus on getting her hearing back to where it had been a minute ago. He suppressed a snicker just as the door opened and Kuwabara greeted them with a small wave.

"Come on in, guys. Sorry I didn't hear you knock, but my door was shut and it's so thick I can't hear all the way downstairs."

Yûsuke nodded as he slid off his shoes. "Thought so."

Kuwabara walked back into the house and waited for his guests to get their shoes off and come into the hall. He moved instinctively to the den and Botan followed right away, Yûsuke taking a little more time to look around. He hadn't been into Kuwabara's house that he could remember; it was nice and simple. Pleasantly homey.

"So, Kuwabara," Botan said cheerfully as she plopped herself down on a comfortable sofa. "How've you been?"

"Fine, until right now," he said, equally cheerful. "What're you guys up to?"

Botan smiled awkwardly and Yûsuke rolled his eyes.

"Long version or short version?" he asked flatly. Kuwabara cocked his head.

"Short version."

"We're trying to find Hiei and Kurama and we can't."

"…long version."

"Thought so."

And so Yûsuke made himself comfortable in a smallish armchair and explained everything he knew, or thought he knew, about Hiei's and Kurama's predicament, and Kuwabara listened with rapt interest and growing disapproval. By the end of the tale, his face was screwed up in a dark scowl and he looked about ready to leap from his seat and charge after them himself.

"How could they do something so stupid?" he asked rhetorically. Botan was about to answer when Yûsuke nudged her and shook his head. Kuwabara needed to get some ranting out of his system before they took him on their journey, and it was better to get it done here, before they left.

By the time Kuwabara was, in fact, finished complaining, a good five minutes had passed and Botan had become fascinated with his words. He was right, of course—the pair of them had been ridiculous and foolhardy, going off on their own, but it was most interesting to hear it all in rant-form. Botan grinned widely and twirled her fingers through the air, coming up with her oar.

"All right, then!" she cried, leaping on. "Come along, we've got quite a trip ahead of us!"

Yûsuke and Kuwabara gave her identical dull glares.

"No shit."

Botan sweatdropped.

* * *

"Therefore release me, and depart on your way": in fact, Kurama _is_ quoting something. Whitman, in fact. I don't recall if the poem has a formal title or not, but rest assured, it exists. I could give the full text, but…that would be kinda pointless. 

"Being wanted became a thrill I never knew": a line from Nightwish's "Dead Boy's Poem." Great song. You should listen to it sometime.


	7. Necessary Lives

Disclaimer: life sucks, then you die.

_Fall_

_In a distorted loophole in time  
The knife that stabbed me in the back gives me wings  
And I keep looking up the sky_

—_Gackt, "Secret Garden" (translated)_

Chapter Six: Necessary Lives

Kurama tried to tug his head back, away from Hiei's firm grip, but it was a little _too_ firm, or he was a little too weak. He tried closing his eyes instead, but Hiei would have none of that—a vicious shake prompted his reflexes to open his eyes for him. Even so, he could stubbornly refuse to speak…but what good would that do either of them? Kurama knew Hiei would find a way to make him say it eventually, make him say why he had done what he had done, much less how. Wouldn't it be better to simply give in? The act had never gotten him anywhere in life before, but then, he'd never quite felt these kinds of feelings, exactly, for his tormentor. Not _really_. Not _truly_.

Not like a stupid little _schoolgirl_, he snapped at himself as his thoughts wobbled off on a little tangent. He'd never felt romantic love before, and that was that. He knew it all—he loved Hiei and Hiei loved him, to be simple—but wouldn't do anything about it. No, not a thing. Not just yet.

"How did you do it?" Hiei asked, his tone leaving no room for discussion, much less resistance. Kurama's eyes darted around nervously and he felt his breathing become slowly stronger with the offending plants removed from his neck.

"I…" he trailed off, not entirely sure how to begin. Hiei saw progress and didn't push it, thankfully, letting Kurama take time to collect his thoughts before continuing. This sort of thing had happened once before, he remembered, in a less masochistic way. A fitting example, anyway.

"Do you remember," he said softly, his words coming out slower than he intended as he continued to heal, "when we fought in the Black Martial Arts Tournament, and I had a match with the Shinobi Gama and Touya?"

Hiei nodded mutely, as though under the impression that his words would disrupt Kurama's thoughts and prompt him to stop speaking entirely. He did distinctly remember that fight; it had been most interesting, and he had almost, _almost_ feared for Kurama's life.

Kurama smiled grimly. "Well. Then you remember that I can call upon my weapons without the use of my hands?"

Nodding again, Hiei became more sure of his initial thoughts on how Kurama had managed the most interesting feat of almost killing himself without alerting Hiei to the fact. The way he saw it, there was only one way it could have happened, anyway.

"It was simple, though it took awhile," Kurama said. "Not only do I store the Grass of Death with all my others, but I was, you'll remember, lying on the ground—on the grass, to be precise. Perhaps you remember my occasional use of a Grass Leaf Blade in medical processes?"

Hiei nodded again. He was certain he was right, but he needed Kurama to try and rationalize it to both Hiei and himself.

"You can guess what happened next…" Kurama finished, his head turning aside as Hiei finally released him to cross his own arms.

"I could guess what happened throughout the whole thing," Hiei said. "That wasn't the point of this. I want _you_ to say it to both me _and_ yourself. I want _your_ explanation, _your_ rationale. Not mine."

Kurama looked back at Hiei with his eyes dark, showing many things. These were the eyes of one who had lived to see many things no man should ever see. These were the eyes of one who had done things no man should ever do. These were the eyes of one who was tired of life, and tired of living. These were the eyes of one who did not think that love was enough to save him.

Hiei remembered when he had thought such things. He still did, for the most part, but he had also learned that sometimes, though love was not enough to save a person, it was enough to keep him going for a little bit longer. If it happened often enough, that love was good enough to get him a little bit farther, then he would make it all the way to the end. Hiei didn't want Kurama to stop his life up, not just yet, but he didn't know if he could show the fox that without breaking something important, something valuable. Something he might not even know existed, much less the precise identity of.

All these thoughts transpired in a mere instant, or even a fraction of one, but Kurama felt closer to Hiei than he ever had before as he showed Hiei the torments he harbored. Hiei, though he did not wish to, felt farther from Kurama than he ever had before as he realized how hopeless, or even heartless Kurama had, and continued to become.

"My life holds no thrill," Kurama said, stopping himself from calling it "meaning." Hiei would certainly argue with that, or even declare his love right then, which was certainly not befitting. "I take no pleasure in living, only pain. Why not put myself out of this misery?"

Hiei stared, though a part of him had expected that answer. He could think of only one thing to say, to which he also knew the answer but wished to hear it confirmed: "How did you do it?"

With a small sigh, Kurama admitted to himself that it didn't really matter how he had done it. Hiei knew anyway, and now it was only filler. Why not explain his masterful plan?

"I used the grass beneath me as a blade," he said, his voice now almost its normal volume. "Cutting a small hole in the back of my neck, I gave myself the opening in my skin necessary to plant the Grass of Death."

Hiei looked down at Kurama with disappointment clear in his gaze. Kurama tried not to look at him, for he was beginning to feel guilty, which was something he certainly did not need.

"Using the same technique I did in my fight against Touya, I forced the Grass of Death into my bloodstream and grew it," Kurama finished, his voice lowering again, though this time not out of necessity. Hiei closed his eyes and shook his head; this was truly a difficult story to listen to.

"You didn't notice because I was speaking of my own suicide in cryptic terms and you were trying to decipher them," Kurama added at the last moment, trying to spare Hiei some dignity. "Not only that, my energy was weak and distorted; you had no reason to suspect, or at least sense that I was doing something strange."

Frowning bitterly, Hiei wished he knew how to cry. He had seen other people do it, and it never seemed very hard. He had spent so much of his life forcing himself _not_ to cry, it seemed he had never done it properly. He built another brick in the wall of self-hatred and tried not to think about it much.

"Why not simply activate the Grass of Death right away?" Hiei asked, determined to discuss something other than himself. "I couldn't have done anything once you'd said the keyword. Why bother drawing it out?"

Kurama smiled bitterly and his eyes became shaded. "I don't know," he said. "Masochism, maybe; wanting to prolong my own suffering. Sadism, even, wanting you to suffer for something you didn't do. Or maybe I just didn't feel deserving of a quick death. Whatever it was, I think it's still inside of me."

Hiei heaved a long breath at Kurama's unintended wordplay. "Wanting you to suffer for something you didn't do." Wanting him to suffer, although the thing was not his fault? Or was it wanting him to suffer for something he could have done, but had not? Or both? And what could he have done that he hadn't? Visit more? Reveal his driving love? No, Kurama didn't know how he felt. This was a stupid discussion to have with himself.

Although it did bring about some…interesting questions.

* * *

Kuwabara and Yûsuke knelt beside one another on the long stone pathway before Koenma's office. Each alternately coughed and retched after the spiraling ride Botan had given them, both trying to shove their own stomachs back down their throats. Finally, Yûsuke rose shakily to his feet and glared pointedly at one blue haired ferry girl, but stalked past her and banged on Koenma's door. 

"Open up!" he snapped into the intercom, jabbing the dull red button fiercely. Kuwabara stood behind him, leaning on the wall, and called a rousing "Hurry it up!"

Sure enough, the doors opened and Yûsuke and Kuwabara followed Botan to her boss's office. The ogres bustling about and waving paper everywhere were nowhere near as disorienting and surprising as they had been the first time Yûsuke had seen them. Jorge was nowhere in sight, but that wasn't at all unusual; he was probably suffering Koenma's every whim in the demigod's office.

In a matter of minutes—really they were probably seconds, but Yûsuke was being jostled around so much that the time felt longer after it was over—Botan was rapping sharply on Koenma's door.

"Koenma, sir?" she called loudly. "Koenma, sir, it's Botan! I've got some visitors here to see you!"

A long pause ensued before the buzzer shrilled in response as the door opened on Koenma's reddened face and heavily inked hands. Kuwabara smothered a laugh.

"I haven't got time for oh hello, Yûsuke—Kuwabara—and…what are you doing here?"

This was all said very quickly and Yûsuke and Kuwabara each took a moment and exchanged a glance as they pieced it together.

"Standing?" Kuwabara tried. Koenma shook his head and looked at the pair of them dully. Yûsuke grinned broadly to make up for the sudden lack of emotion in the room.

Sensing danger, Botan butted in with an overwhelming amount of cheer. "Koenma, sir!" she said exuberantly. "Would you believe that after all this time—I mean, _all_ this time—Yûsuke's communicator still works perfectly! And so, I was sitting around chatting with Ayame and the other girls when all of a sudden—completely out of nowhere, I tell you—_my_ communicator rings off the hook! So of course, I ignore it for awhile because I figure it's some prank or something, but then I hear, of all things, Yûsuke's voice! Out of thin air, I swear. He screams for me, what was it Yûsuke, three times? And so I figure, hey, I'd better pop in and see what he wants!" Botan laughed in a falsely cheerful way, covering something akin to nervousness. "So what do you think of that, eh? Go figure!"

Koenma blinked at her. Yûsuke and Kuwabara wisely took a step back, then another, as Koenma let this information filter through his brain. His reaction could range anywhere from "Pleased to see them" to "What the fuck?"

"All right…" he said finally, which seemed to be a good sign. "Botan, why are they _here_?"

"Eh…heh."

Yûsuke chose this opportune moment to insert himself into the conversation. Nothing could get much worse, he figured—it wasn't so bad, anyway.

"Where's Kurama?" he asked pointedly. "I'd ask where Hiei was, but I'm betting they're together."

At this, Koenma balked. Surely—_surely_ Yûsuke had other methods of tracking the two demons. An entire network of Raizen's old supporters simply _waiting_ for him to return and ask a favor. Kuwabara's extraordinary senses which had increased even since his days as a detective. _Something_ other than Koenma himself. That was like finding an old phone number that he hadn't called in years and deciding to give it a ring and ask a favor. Never mind that Koenma was spending a great deal of time looking for the demonic duo on his own—never mind that their goals were the same. The fact that Yûsuke and Kuwabara would so forcefully barge into his office and demand to know Kurama's and Hiei's locations was _preposterous_!

…maybe not quite preposterous, but somewhere up there. And maybe they hadn't quite barged in or demanded an answer, but he was frustrated, damn it, and he wanted answers just as badly as they did. He just didn't want to send out a search party.

"You come to me asking that?" Koenma said finally, raising his eyebrows. "No network of informants of your own?"

Yûsuke glowered. "You know damn well my informants are living on their own now, or working for Enki. Point being, they're not _my_ informants anymore, if they're anyone's."

"Right, that."

Kuwabara stepped forward quietly, his eyes shadowed. "We can't find them, can we?" he said morosely.

Waiving his stubby arms frantically, Koenma shook his head. "No, no! We can find them! It's just a matter of time, really it is."

Yûsuke, Botan, and Kuwabara shared a smirk before turning it on Koenma himself.

"Well, then," Kuwabara declared, "keep looking."

Koenma put his face in his hands and suppressed a scream.

* * *

Why, Hiei wondered, did Kurama want him to suffer for anything? What had he done or not done? Was it worth it to ask? Could he afford _not_ to ask? He frowned. Being in love with someone who was going out of his mind was _so_ confusing. 

He elected to say nothing and hope Kurama was in the mood to elaborate. Kurama only looked at him curiously.

"You aren't going to make some valiant effort to discover what's wrong with me?" he asked with no small amount of derision. Hiei shook his head.

"I'm not some noble, love-struck prince bound to save his princess, and there's certainly no horrible evil possessing you, anyway. Why would I pry into matters you obviously don't want me to concern myself with?"

Kurama hid a small smile. "Did you just admit that Youko Kurama is not a horrible evil?"

Hiei frowned. "Did _you_ just imply that Youko Kurama is possessing you?"

"Ah, touché."

"Hm."

Hiei liked the humor Kurama seemed to be getting from his interpreting Hiei's words in a way he had not intended—that took a wily sort of intellect. He did not, however, approve of the way Kurama had twisted around their meaning. It had been a long while since Hiei had last expressed distrust of the fox living inside Minamino Shûichi's body, and since relied on Youko many times at the risk of his own life. Kurama had no reason to suspect that he still thought Youko was evil.

Every step forward was a step back, Hiei mused, and so they were getting absolutely nowhere. Well, maybe not _nowhere_, but the going was slow, wherever they were at the moment.

And, he realized, he had almost lied to Kurama just then. "I'm not some noble, love-struck prince," he had said. It was true he was not a prince, nor especially noble, but he was certainly love-struck. He hoped Kurama wouldn't realize that from his words. Best not to be too frantic, or it would start to show on his face.

Come to think of it, he didn't know why lying to Kurama bothered him so much. Lying had always been a talent of his; why not now? Well, he had done it well enough, he just didn't like it. Was that simply another side effect of being in love? Hiei frowned again. They needed to find another lackey of Miru's, or maybe a run-of-the-mill demon to get his mind off of these things. A good fight would surely distract him.

"Awfully glum, aren't we?" Kurama said in a purposefully cheerful tone as he sat up and crossed his legs. Hiei looked at him cock-eyed and put his hand on his hip.

"I don't believe _you_ are giving off that aura," he said slowly. "And since when have you deemed my normal state of things 'glum'?"

Kurama giggled, and Hiei blinked. "Oh, you know, since just now. It suits you, I think."

Stopping any and all movement, Hiei looked at Kurama blankly. Finally, he thought he needed to say…_something_.

"Do you smell that?"

"Hm?" Kurama asked, his eyes oddly bright and even childish. "Smell what?"

Pointedly, Hiei sniffed the air. "The blood. The air is full of the stench." He sighed and smiled a little. "Makes me feel right at home. What do you think?"

"Um…" Kurama sniffed audibly and Hiei tried not to get his hopes up. The blood had worked before, it would work again. There was nothing to "hope" about. He simply had to know.

"I think that's a disgusting thought," Kurama offered. Hiei felt his stomach twist around and his heart clench—Kurama really was going a little bit crazy.

"…but I think you're right."

Resisting the urge to sigh deeply in relief, Hiei easily suppressed a small smile and simply nodded.

"How do you feel?" he asked. He hoped Kurama would answer the way he needed him to, or they would never get going again.

Kurama put a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "Physically or emotionally?"

Why not kill two birds with one stone? "Both."

"Hum…physically, my neck is burning right badly. Feels like the veins are trying to pull themselves apart."

Hiei turned his face aside as he smirked. "Aside from that."

"Aside from that, physically fine. Emotionally, a little tired. Kind of stressed. I've almost managed to forget why we're here."

"Oh, you can't have—"

Raising a hand, Kurama halted Hiei's words in their tracks. "I said 'almost.' Speaking of which, we'd better get going, eh?"

"It would be a better idea if we knew where to go, don't you think?" Hiei asked dryly. Kurama smiled deviously.

"You forget," he said, standing and brushing dirt from his slacks, "I've got a built-in Miru Sensor."

Rolling his eyes, Hiei stood as well. A Miru Sensor. That was exactly what he needed: ridiculous nicknames for nonexistent tracking devices. Oh, well, he thought as he stubbornly didn't shrug. At least Kurama was back on the right track…though, he mused, he would need to look further into the notion of suppressed and dormant suicidal wishes. Kurama might be a ticking time bomb, but he was damned if he was going to let his friend explode.

* * *

Koenma's futile search had been going on for some time, and many ogres had come running in and out at his command. Yûsuke and Kuwabara were growing restless and impatient, and Botan had long since determined this to be Not Her Job and left. Koenma himself wasn't sure why he was so determined to find the pair of demons; they were out of his jurisdiction and his employment, and he didn't really like Hiei. But, he reminded himself, both Yûsuke and Kuwabara had been friends and teammates of Hiei's and Kurama's and _they_ liked them both, and they wouldn't leave or let Koenma stop looking until he found them. He swore under his breath. Damn determination to choose such stubborn detectives. 

"Hey, Koenma," Yûsuke said suddenly, sitting up a little straighter where he was lounging on the floor. Koenma looked down at him—he had long since gotten over the glee at being so much higher up than his two companions—and raised an eyebrow.

"I'd thank you not to precede your comment with such rudeness," he said dryly, "but what do you want?"

Rolling his eyes, Yûsuke raised himself to a kneel. "How did you track us all when we were detectives? You know, when we had missions in Makai and stuff like that. Like when we were in the Four Holy Beasts' castle."

Koenma nodded; he knew exactly what Yûsuke was referring to. Unfortunately, that didn't mean it would help them now. "Right, that. Well, you see, I can only track energies, not people—"

"So track Kurama's or Hiei's energy," Kuwabara interrupted as Yûsuke nodded in agreement. "You've done it before, right? It can't be too hard."

Glowering, Koenma shook his head. "Unfortunately, it can and it is. Hiei reflexively cloaks his own energy, which is why it's so difficult to find him when missions come around. A side effect of his traumatic life, I suppose. Kurama's energy might be located with some effort on a good day, but he's so distraught right now that even if I could find his energy—which is always difficult—I couldn't be sure it was really his, and it probably wouldn't stay on one wavelength for very long."

Yûsuke cursed and kicked Koenma's desk. Kuwabara stuffed his hands into his pockets and frowned deeply at the ground, screwing up his face in frustration.

"Well…" Yûsuke began, and Koenma could tell he would be groping for straws, whatever he said.

"Yes?"

"Um…got anyone you could send off to look for them?"

Koenma rested his chin in his hands. Somehow, hearing someone else say it made it more plausible…

* * *

Note: To anyone who has _not_ seen Kurama's fights with Gama and Touya during the Black Martial Arts Tournament, here is all you need to know for this story: Kurama couldn't use his spiritual energy due to a previous fight with Touya's teammate, Gama. Manipulating his own energy during the fight with Gama, he wrapped his Rose Whip around his hair and used that instead of his hands to snap the whip and kill Gama. Unfortunately, he couldn't use the same trick against Touya because Gama had used a final curse to trap Kurama's energy inside of body so he couldn't use the Rose Whip maneuver anymore. Kurama sowed the Grass of Death inside a long gash in his arm so that the plant could take root in his energy without his energy having to leave his body—the plant contacted his energy through his bloodstream. He then grew the Grass of Death around his arm and stabbed Touya with it to knock him out. He proceeded to spend a great deal of time removing the Grass of Death from his body, which leads me to believe that its short-term effects are far from fatal when it is used in this manner. However, Hiei certainly did not remove it gently or slowly, which may cause some problems later on. Hint, hint. But then again, it may not; maybe Kurama's just being paranoid in taking so much care to get it out. Hint, hint. 

Note: If you can't, or simply don't feel like piecing that together with Kurama's brief summary of his actions in this story, here's basically what happened: Kurama cut a little hole in his neck by using the grass he was lying on as a blade. He could then implant the Grass of Death into his body without moving and giving away too much of what he was doing. (The same way he manipulated the rose seed mentioned above without his hands, he manipulated the Grass of Death.) After a little while, giving the Grass of Death time to take root (this time covered up by his mutterings, which explains, in part, why Hiei didn't notice the Grass of Death), he could cause it to grow and infect his body. This occurred at about the time Hiei pieced together what Kurama's mutterings were alluding to; the Grass of Death had time to take root and begin its work, but not quite enough time to kill Kurama without the keyword's activation (the keyword being, of course, "die").

If you aren't aware of how the Grass of Death works, Kurama needs to sow it into his enemy's body, allow it time to take root, and then say the word "Die" to activate it. This causes the plant to explode into a large, beautiful rose which completely overtakes and destroys the opponent's body.

Note: To the best of my knowledge, any instances in which we see Kurama perform medical processes do not include his use of a "Grass Leaf Blade." I invented it under the assumption that Kurama, being able to make any plant into a weapon, could easily make something so simple as a blade of grass into a knife, or a knife-like object—at least something with sharp edges.

Note: For clarification, the romance stands as such: Hiei knows he loves Kurama and _highly suspects_ Kurama loves him as well, but is not certain and is afraid that bringing up the topic will have a negative effect on Kurama's mentality. Kurama knows he loves Hiei and _knows_ Hiei loves him in return, but does not want to tell Hiei that he loves him nor does he want Hiei to tell Kurama that he loves him at the wrong moment (i.e., prompted). Also, Hiei _does not know_ that Kurama knows Hiei loves him. (Did you get that? I think that was actually mentioned in the story, oddly enough.)

Note: I am aware that the Demon Realm Tournament was determined to be held every four years, and according to the timeline I set for this story which I no longer remember, it has probably been over four years since that was decided. I am assuming that Enki won the tournament again.


	8. Thoughtlessly, as Predicted

Disclaimer: disappointments are so disappointing. And I'm supposed to be the realist.

_Fall_

_Oh how they pound,  
raising the sound,  
o'er hill and dale,   
telling their tale_

_—__Traditional, "Carol of the Bells"_

Chapter Seven: Thoughtlessly, as Predicted

Hiei scuffed the dirt with the heel of his boot. He was getting bored again; he had long since become accustomed to the scent of blood in the air, and it was no longer refreshing. Musing over his seemingly inexhaustible patience—a side effect of being in love, he assumed, and an unpleasant one at that—Hiei glanced sideways at Kurama. The fox was walking with his glance set firmly ahead, not even the smallest dart of his eyes to look at Hiei, much less anything else. Most interesting to note.

Kurama, meanwhile, made sure _not_ to look at Hiei. As the scenery was monotonous and rather boring, he thought it best to play up his mental fragility and stare ahead, blinking as rarely as he could stand to. He figured Hiei would not question him if he seemed ready to collapse at the slightest irritation. He did want to discuss his inner turmoil, really he did, but he wasn't sure how to bring them up and he would be damned if Hiei took the initiative. Instead, he focused all his talents on tracking Miru to the best of his ability. He had little luck, but he thought he had snagged onto something small.

His pace quickened and Hiei, eager for anything different, matched Kurama exactly. Their steps falling in time with one another, the two still made sure not to lock their gazes or even look towards each other. Neither wanted to begin a conversation and a glance into one another's eyes would lead to unpleasant tenseness, which was not necessary just then.

They walked, not in companionable silence, but in a sort of stilted reality for awhile before Hiei became so uncomfortable that he had to speak.

"I assume you've been following an energy trace," he said bluntly. Kurama glanced down and quickly back before Hiei could look at him.

"I have," he responded tersely. He seemed to disapprove of banter and did not speak further.

Having begun speaking, however, Hiei thought of something he had best say before it was too late.

"I think _I'd_ better handle this one."

As expected, the assertion was met with a deep frown. Kurama's eyes suddenly darkened a few shades and he glowered at Hiei, slowing his pace considerably. Meanwhile, Hiei continued walking on as though nothing had been said, which only served to irritate Kurama further.

"How _dare_ you suggest such a thing?" Kurama asked indignantly. "This is hardly your battle to be fought!"

Hiei shrugged. Kurama was being unreasonable, as he had thought—not entirely, perhaps, but he sounded loathe to hear the reasoning behind this statement. Truly, Hiei did not feel much like giving it, but he thought it necessary.

"I know it isn't," he said calmly with ages of practiced nonchalance. "I'm not saying it _is_. I'm simply saying that between the two of us, I'm the more likely to keep his cool if Miru is even mentioned, much less praised, and we can't really afford another of these random traipses through the wastelands of Hell. We're desperately hoping for simply a trace of her energy and you know it. We don't have time to do this again."

"I don't want to hear your _reasons_, Hiei," Kurama snapped, a faint flush decorating his cheeks. Whether it was out of embarrassment or anger could not be determined, but Hiei suspected the latter and hoped for the former. A stupid thing to do, really, but his first thoughts were completely free of the rest of his mind, especially the rational part.

The pair walked on for some time, Kurama occasionally taking a sharp turn and seemingly trying to throw Hiei from his trail. Hiei knew that if Kurama really wanted to lose him, he would be long gone, but it still hurt a little to know the thought had had reason to enter his mind. He sensed that Kurama wanted to say something, but he didn't know what, and this was not the best of times to ask.

So they walked.

* * *

Yûsuke and Kuwabara milled around for a minute or two, waiting for Koenma to answer them.

He didn't, of course. Yûsuke looked down at him, obviously irritated, and slammed his hands down on the desk. It trembled and startled Koenma from his thoughts, making him jerk his head up to stare straight ahead at nothing.

"Anyone?" Yûsuke asked. "I mean, anyone at all? Other than us 'cause you don't want to send us for some reason, right, so is there _anyone_—"

"Wait," Koenma said, putting up his hand to stop Yûsuke's flow of banter. "Why wouldn't I send you two? You'd be able to find them as well as anyone, or better. You know them and all, you understand."

Exchanging a panicked glance, Yûsuke and Kuwabara both stood before the desk and did their best to look imposing. It worked better for Kuwabara, given his height, but Koenma imagined him playing with Eikichi and the effect was somewhat ruined. Yûsuke managed to look imposing and even dangerous, but Koenma knew he had certain authority over the two boys and tried his best not to be fazed.

"I don't think you really want to do that, Koenma," Kuwabara said, his voice rough and low. Yûsuke nodded, his fists clenching and unclenching in a threatening manner.

Koenma met them glare for glare. "And why is that?" he asked shrewdly. Yûsuke and Kuwabara exchanged another glance—they hadn't thought quite that far ahead.

Botan stepped forward bravely, bearing her oar like a weapon. Yûsuke grinned; he had been on the receiving end of that thing a few times, and he knew enough to be intimidated when she was serious. Of course, whether she would seriously hit her boss was questionable…

"Sir," she said firmly, her head drawn up and her eyes narrowed. "I think it would be in everyone's best interest…"

Yûsuke and Kuwabara glanced at one another yet again, confident of their advocate. Surely Botan would get them off the hook.

"…if you sent Yûsuke and Kuwabara to find Kurama and Hiei."

"Cue awkward pause," Koenma said with a grin. "Sorry boys, but if Botan agrees, then I have no choice. See you sometime soon, eh?"

Yûsuke regained his bearings and stomped up on the desk, sending hundreds of papers flying. "What do you mean, you have no choice? Botan is _your_ subordinate! She has to do what you tell her! And she doesn't exactly have power of authority here!"

Koenma's grin widened. "I trust her judgment _implicitly_," he said with some mocking derision. Clearly, he was getting far too much pleasure out of tormenting Yûsuke in such a manner.

Yûsuke jumped down from the desk and shot dark, menacing glares to both Botan and Koenma before looking angrily at Kuwabara.

"C'mon, Kuwabara," he said huffily. "Clearly, we won't be getting any help here. Let's look for some help in the ogre's lounges."

Kuwabara sniffed arrogantly. "You bet."

As the door slammed shut, Botan looked down at Koenma with some concern. "You know," she said, "they were your best bet for finding Kurama and Hiei. What will you do now?"

Koenma smiled devilishly and tented his fingers.

"Oh," he said confidently, "they'll be back. I'm sure of it."

Botan felt a large sweatdrop sliding down the back of her head.

"…uh huh."

* * *

This slow stalking had been going on for long enough, Hiei decided finally. Four hours was plenty; anyway, they had to be close to this new lackey of Miru's.

"You know where you are going, correct?" he asked bitingly, leaving no room for argument. Kurama nodded, but it was sulky, like a child.

"Let's go faster, then," Hiei said. Kurama picked up his pace a little and they moved along at a more comfortable speed. Hiei made sure to keep himself a few steps in front of Kurama, trying to prompt the fox to move faster still, but to no avail. Frowning darkly, but facing the scenery, Hiei matched his pace to his partner's and made a valiant effort not to sulk. It was a partial success, he would decide later.

They walked and walked, and Hiei thought he did a nice job of hiding his bored impatience. Suddenly Kurama stopped, and Hiei might have walked into him or walked past him, had he not been paying attention. As it were, he stopped alongside him and looked up at his face, which was pointing completely away from him.

Kurama was…sniffing the air. Rolling his eyes at the animalistic exhibit, Hiei tried to sense a nearby energy—_any_ nearby energy, not only those that felt threatening. As far as he could tell, he and Kurama were in something of a wasteland as it was. Frankly, he was only trusting Kurama's instincts because he had no other leads at all. None, he reminded himself, so you can't afford to fuck this up.

Hiei grimaced, then smiled a little at the mild humor of the situation. They keyword, he thought, ironically humorlessly, was "mildly."

"Smell anything?" he asked with the tiniest hint of derision. Kurama shook his head, completely serious (or so it seemed to Hiei, which meant it was probably true, of course).

"Yes," he said, throwing Hiei for a bit of a loop. He had just been shaking his head in the negative, hadn't he? So…but…huh?

Oh, Hiei thought desperately, please don't let him be losing his mind _again_…I absolutely wouldn't be able to stand it! So what to do but ask a logical, straightforward question?

"What do you smell?" Hiei asked.

Kurama let a flicker of a smile grace his features. "Target."

Hiei sighed. "Target like the store?" he asked, this time completely sarcastic. Kurama allowed him a reproving look (or it might have been mock reproving, Hiei wasn't sure) and his smiled returned.

"Target like _the_ target, as in _our_ target," Kurama explained, shaking his head with mild amusement. "Up ahead there, in that tower."

Now completely bewildered and beginning to doubt his own state of mind, Hiei squinted at the land ahead of them and saw, as expected, no tower. Rather than point out this glaringly obvious hole in Kurama's theory, Hiei looked at him skeptically and waited for a response. Maybe something along the lines of "Just kidding!" or maybe "My mistake."

When no such reply came, Hiei felt the need to say something. Or, more accurately, to ask something.

"Kurama?"

"Yes, Hiei?"

"Are you okay?"

"Why, yes, Hiei."

"Really?"

Kurama chuckled daintily and Hiei instantly knew that he was, in fact, very much Not Okay.

"I'm perfectly all right, thank you."

Hiei frowned and glared at the ground from the corner of his eye, folding his arms across his chest in a perfect pout. He muttered something like "Liar," but Kurama didn't press the issue any. It needed to be addressed—in fact, it might have been beneficial to them both if Kurama _had_ pressed it, but he hadn't, and he wouldn't, and there was no getting around that fact.

And so they walked on like children, one stubborn and one stupid, and both more than a little crazy.

* * *

Yûsuke and Kuwabara had been wandering the halls of Koenma's castle for a long while; maybe an hour or so. Having long since admitted they were lost, they had also given up on finding their way back, and were walking in aimless circles as they hoped to stumble onto a ferry girl or, if they were lucky, Jorge the ogre. Those ferry girls could be annoying, after all; some were too morbid (what was her name, Yûsuke tried to recall, Ayame?), some were too chipper (some redhead whose name he didn't know), some were too unhelpful (well, there had to be _some_, even if he had never met them).

Jorge? Highly unlikely. But still, they could hope.

And hope they did, for they had nothing more productive to try.

Some time afterwards, a loud banging noise rattled the halls, coming from a room not terribly far ahead. Exchanging a questioning glance, Yûsuke and Kuwabara took off at a sprint to discover the source of the peculiar sound.

Arriving quickly at the room in question, they were not too startled to see at least five bookshelves lying on the floor, the books they ought to have been holding scattered all about them. Looking awfully embarrassed and standing off to the side, as though he was trying to sink into the walls, was Jorge. He rushed over to them, pleading and pathetic.

"Oh, don't tell Koenma I was in here!" he begged. "He'll fire me for sure, and I can't go back to the wild! They know I worked here, they'll ostracize me for sure, and you know I don't have many other skills besides filing papers and that's not in high demand right now, so I'd be out of the job! Think of my family, I'd have nothing to feed them, I'd be a terrible provider—it's a good thing I don't have a family anyway, but if Koenma found out I—"

Yûsuke smacked Jorge upside the head just as Kuwabara slapped his hand over the ogre's mouth.

"Shut. Up."

Jorge nodded meekly and they released him.

Yûsuke surveyed the damage. "What did you do?" he asked critically. Jorge cowered, crouching down on the floor with his arms raised over his head.

"I was looking for a certain book—"

"Let me guess," Kuwabara said, inspecting the closest fallen shelf. "You climbed up to the top row to get it and the whole thing tipped over, is that it?"

Jorge nodded, blushing lightly and rubbing the back of his neck. Yûsuke rolled his eyes.

"Should've known," he said sagely, shaking his head. "Should've known."

"Why did you repeat yourself just then?" Kuwabara asked suddenly. "We both heard you, are you trying to sound wise or something?"

Yûsuke blinked. "I dunno," he said, looking rather confused. "It seemed like the thing to do."

"But why do those old geezers, you know, mentors, why do they do it at all?" Kuwabara asked. "I always thought it was kind of stupid."

"It always bothered me," Jorge added, wondering if they had suddenly gotten over his exploits.

"Yeah…"

Weird.

* * *

"Kurama," Hiei said finally, "you know there's no tower up ahead of us."

Kurama glanced down at Hiei, then back at the expanse of land before them. He looked more than a little confused, which Hiei took as either a bad sign or a very bad sign: either Kurama was crazy or he was.

"You don't see it?" Kurama asked, sounding hurt for some reason, as though Hiei had personally offended him. Hiei shook his head, looking a little harder at the fields. Come to think of it, he actually might be able to see the thin outline of a…something…like a tower, or something similar. An apartment? A fortress? Strange…he could've sworn…

Kurama, meanwhile, was looking at Hiei with concern. "You're sure?" he asked again. Hiei squinted, then looked back at Kurama apologetically.

"Sorry," he said, "but I don't see anything but field."

Kurama brightened immediately. "Well, that's good," he said with a small laugh, "because I don't see one, either."

Hiei gaped.

"You look like a fish," Kurama whispered confidentially.

Hiei continued to gape.

"The target is underground, in case you were wondering," he continued, walking on again and headed towards the "tower." "Come along, then! I won't wait all day!"

Shaking himself violently, Hiei bolted after Kurama and walked alongside him until they reached a patch of grass with a distinctly grass-free hole in its center. This sort of demonic grass didn't grow itself well, Hiei recalled. It needed proper love and attention—not likely in this world—or it would stay dead. As might be expected, no one had bothered to re-grow the grass. It was common and fairly ugly, anyway.

Kurama was kneeling beside the dirty patch, nearly elbow deep in the muddy stuff. Hiei watched him wonderingly, unsure as to whether Kurama even knew what he was doing. Apparently, he did, for a moment later, he looked extremely pleased and withdrew his arms from the muck. Nodding to Hiei, he pointed to the ground.

"Right there," he said, jabbing his finger at a specific spot. "Light that right there on fire, and the whole thing will burn down."

Hiei knelt as well and eyed the spot suspiciously. "Are you sure?" he asked, prodding the spot. The dirt all looked exactly the same to him, but Kurama nodded firmly.

"Absolutely," he said, pointing again. "The dirt only goes down so far, you see. This point is covering buried gunpowder, and if you light it, the whole thing will go up in flames and burn away.

Hiei nodded with some hesitation and stood, snapping his fingers and letting his gaze flicker to the tiny flames summoned there.

"So Miru knows I'm traveling with you, then?" he said observantly. Kurama nodded.

"I guess she must. This is a trap, of course. She must think we're not up to taking on the creature living down here."

Hiei rolled his eyes. "Great. Just what I need."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

Standing, Kurama backed away a few steps and shielding his face with his arms before giving Hiei the nod. Throwing down the fire on the precise point Kurama had indicated, Hiei leapt out of the way just in time to watch the gunpowder blow the whole thing up, scattering dirt and mud everywhere. Hiei felt a large glob of it land in his hair and glowered.

As the residue settled, the pair walked back to the hole and peered down into it. It was deep, certainly—pitch black, as far as they could both tell, which meant it was too far to jump without a high risk of serious damage or a bad landing. They exchanged an annoyed look before Kurama sat on the edge of the hole and shimmied down into it, bracing himself along the cramped walls to control his fall. Hiei followed shortly thereafter and they began their long descent.

* * *

So I thought I'd get a little holiday spirit for once, and use a seasonal song for the lyrics bit. Of course, the original "Carol of the Bells" had _nothing_ to do with Christmas, but it's the only carol I like, so…we'll deal with it, ne? And incidentally, the Trans-Siberian Orchestra has one very cool version of the music for "Carol of the Bells." It's all rock-metal-ish. Check it out if you feel like checking it out.

And I am super extra sorry for taking so long, but college apps are, I believe literally, killing my brain. I swear, I am all essay-ed out.


	9. Rose of Lines

Disclaimer: ah, as the year has drawn to a close, and with it…nothing.

_Fall_

_Each time I turn around  
There's nothing there at all  
So tell me why I feel like  
I'm up against a wall_

—_K.T. Tunstall, "False Alarm"_

Chapter Eight: Rose of Lines

Feeling as though he had been slowly sliding down the hole for hours, at least, Kurama was more than a little surprised to move his foot down into air rather than more dirt. He stopped short for being so startled, getting himself a nice face full of Hiei's boot when the demon failed to notice his pause.

Hiei, however, noticed full well the change in resistance of his foothold and jerked it back at once, landing him at somewhat of an awkward and most uncomfortable angle. With his one leg bent right up to his chest and his other almost dangling against the wall, Hiei found himself in a most unfortunate position from which to move any further.

"Something's there?" he asked Kurama, hoping the fox would move quickly so he could dislodge his leg.

"No," Kurama replied, "nothing. Nothing's down there."

Hiei frowned. So had Kurama not noticed the foot planted firmly on his head? Or was he ignoring it? Either way, Hiei wanted to get himself down to the ground and he wanted to do it fast. He tried prodding Kurama again, in the shoulder this time, and received no reaction at all.

"Can you get to the ground?" he asked, wondering if that was the problem. Kurama shook his head, not that Hiei could see him, and shrugged.

"I could jump, I guess," he said thoughtfully. "It can't be too far down, can it?"

Hiei snorted. "Well, warn me when you get there."

With a small chuckle, Kurama edged his way down to the very bottom of the hole and let go, falling a few unsteady meters to the ground. After gaining his bearings and squinting into the dark—which helped precious little, as he couldn't see much even with his eyes narrowed impossibly thin—he turned back to the hole and called up to Hiei.

"About four meters!" he called up. "You'll live, but be prepared for the shock impact; you can't position yourself too well at the fall, being so tightly packed in there!"

With a small grunt, Hiei edged his way down to the hole's bottom and, after dangling a second to determine how best to make the leap, let go. His attempt to orient himself midair only partially succeeded, resulting in no broken bones, but a distinctly uncomfortable landing. Having nearly landed on his hands, he was a bit disoriented, looking about with a bewildered expression before figuring out what was going on. He stood and shook out his foot, trying to rid himself of the tingling sensation left in it after his weight had been so suddenly shifted.

Finally successful, he started down one of the two corridors, choosing it completely arbitrarily and waiting for Kurama to either pose opposition or follow him. Neither appeared to be happening, however; Hiei looked back over his shoulder and noted that Kurama had, silently and making use of his litheness, gone down the other hall. With a grimace, he turned and, in an instant, was walking beside his friend into the darkness.

"Sense something?" he asked tersely. Kurama flickered his gaze down to Hiei and back to the blackness ahead.

"I think so," Kurama replied. "You ought to be able to, as well. It's rather strong."

Sighing tiredly and not entirely sure why, Hiei fixed his senses on an unfamiliar and vaguely powerful energy that might or might not be coming from the corridor's end. Nothing hit him for a little while, until, on a whim, he tweaked his senses a bit to allow for more variation, and it slammed in on a massive wave.

"Oh, my…" he trailed off, his step slowing for a moment. "I didn't think she had access to lackeys so powerful."

From what he could tell, Kurama grinned with a dulled sense of irony. "Neither did I, but apparently, she's expanded her resources."

"Hm."

The pair walked forward at erratic speeds, first slowly, as though dreading what they would find, then quickly, as though they wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, then slowly again, then quickly for only a step or two, back and forth with alarming frequency. Finally, the bleak dark was broken by a faint sliver of light indicating a closed door, or at least a large rock. Hiei picked up his pace and reached it first to find that it was, in fact, a door, and a rather nice one at that. Delicately carved with spirals and curls in a most intricate pattern, the whole thing seemed to surround a beautiful sketch of a rose, perfectly simple and made only of lines. Hiei touched it, almost expecting Kurama to scold him for not respecting the thing by leaving it alone, but he said no such thing. On the contrary, Kurama came up beside him and took in the door with a sharp breath. Through the faint light, Hiei could see his companion's expression drawn taught, fury roiling just beneath the surface.

Against his better judgment, Hiei placed his hand on Kurama's arm in a vague attempt to calm him, or just to assure him that he was not alone. Kurama glanced down, surprised and not showing it, and Hiei nearly smiled. Stopping himself at the last second, he showed a face of firm decisiveness, nodding once and reaching for the knob. Not surprisingly, Kurama nodded as well and reached for the knob at the same time, so they nearly touched it together. Kurama reached it first, though, and Hiei was left holding his friend's hand.

There was no electric spark from the contact, and Hiei didn't know whether he was disappointed or merely not expecting anything. They had touched before, and it was not a big deal. No fire had ever been sparked in his belly from feeling their hands brush against one another; in fact, he usually found it a little annoying to be touched, or he didn't notice because it was during a fight. Shaking off the notion that he should be like humans in their romantic notions of undying love and devotion, Hiei withdrew his hand and let Kurama hold the knob for a minute before turning it, pushing open the door.

As there had been every time before, a demon sat on the floor in ratty clothes, dark hair matted with blood and other bodily fluids and in dire need of a wash and cut. It was a girl this time, her eyes tired and sunken and her appearance altogether unflattering. Her skin was a sallow kind of purple, matching the teardrop scars underneath her left eye. If she had a proper shower and a good meal, she might have looked even presentable, but as it were, she looked about ready to die.

"Nice door," Hiei said blandly, showing her the backside of his hand as he gestured to the heavy wood. She looked at him with those horrid eyes and blinked.

"Is it?" she asked, her voice clogged and scratchy, as though unused for some time. "I haven't seen it."

Kurama had sunken himself into the shadows of the room, standing in what might have been called a corner as he eyed his companion and their target. He remained silent, which Hiei was immensely grateful for and at the same time, suspicious of. That could be an extremely good or extremely bad sign.

"Ever?" Hiei asked, not really caring for the answer. He already knew how poorly Miru treated her captives, but based on this girl's energy, she shouldn't have been an easy take. He pondered that as he half listened to her answer.

She hacked a cough and spat out some phlegm before speaking. "No," she said, her voice scratchier but less congested. "M'lady wouldn't let me look."

Unseen, Kurama raised an eyebrow and glanced at her reprovingly. There was nothing to be reproving about, Hiei thought reasonably, unaware of Kurama's expression. The girl was strong, yes, but Miru was undoubtedly stronger, or at least wilier, and it wasn't too hard to reason that she had been captured and forced into submission.

"Did she tell you what was on it?" Kurama asked out of the dark. Hiei glanced over his shoulder warningly, but Kurama paid him no mind and waited for a response. The girl looked towards him, or at least towards his general vicinity, and answered uncertainly.

"A flower," she rasped out. "A rose of lines, she called it."

Hiei analyzed that response as he assumed Kurama did the same. A rose of lines, Miru had said. A rose, well, that was obvious. Not only was it intended to startle and distract both Kurama and himself, but it was undoubtedly intended to represent Kurama in whatever point she was making. The lines were more difficult to dissect, but Hiei thought he had managed. Miru, in her way that, to Hiei's chagrin, he knew he would have found delightful, had it not been inflicted upon the one he loved, probably meant two or three or more things by making the rose of lines and not, for instance, flowers.

A Kurama, then, he thought, made of lines. Kurama made of lines that represented what, relationships? That would mean Miru was going to go after Kurama's friends to get to him, which mean Hiei was in danger, but he wasn't worried about that. What if they represented his lives? Interesting thought… Kurama had two lives that were known to his closest friends, but, Hiei went on to himself, what if she was referring to not only his "fox" and "human" lives, but the many masks he wore in regular life? The wonderful son, the diligent student, the devoted friend, the powerful fighter, the ruthless murderer, the wily thief, the self-absorbed egotist, the altruistic angel, each a different line, a different mar on the perfection that Kurama was supposed to be?

Funny, he thought bitterly. She wasn't supposed to know those things.

"And you've never seen it?" Hiei asked, though he knew the answer. He was asking for more time to figure out—what, he wasn't sure.

The girl shook her head rather than speak again, and Hiei nodded in contrast. Miru wanted to keep the girl removed from Kurama. She was a bait, a diversion, another obstacle on their journey, but she was not to become involved. Miru probably thought she was going to die, anyway.

Out of the dark came an unexpected voice. "Do you want to?" Kurama asked softly, sentimentally. Hiei raised his eyebrows but did not turn to look back.

The girl raised her head to look at him forlornly and Hiei felt himself pity her a bit. She probably didn't deserve to be locked up like she was, no matter what her life had been like up to this point. Also, knowing Miru, she had probably been down in this cavern for a long while.

"Don't see how it matters," the girl said in a clipped tone. Hiei made a mental note of how friendly—sort of—Kurama was being, despite not having asked the girl her name as he had done with all the others.

Kurama, Hiei saw, his eyes having adjusted to the dark corner, was smiling sadly, his eyes cast down. "No, I suppose not," he said in a quiet voice. Hiei easily heard the disappointment as well. Kurama had wanted to show this girl something special, something he found morbidly beautiful, and she had turned him down rather bluntly. He couldn't be used to such a thing. Not the famous Kurama.

Hiei had half a mind to force the girl out into the hall and hold her there until she fully appreciated just how complex the door's design was, and everything he thought it meant. But before he could even fairly consider that, he needed to know one small bit of information:

"You, girl. What's your name?"

Not said nearly as tactfully as Kurama would have, but it got the point across and that was really all Hiei cared about, anyway. She looked up at him resentfully and shifted her position, crossing her legs and resting her arms on her knees.

"M'lady told me to forget my name," she said. "She calls me Gravatus."

Kurama made a small sound behind Hiei, indicating his disdain. Hiei didn't know quite what the word meant, but he knew it sounded Latin, which meant Kurama probably understood it perfectly.

"All right, Gravatus," Hiei said smoothly, ignoring his companion. "Where is Miru sending us next on this wild adventure?"

Gravatus looked up at him, her pale eyes suddenly watery, and he leaned back slightly, surprised. He had expected her to be one of the more difficult demons to get information from.

"I've forgotten," she said as her voice broke. Hiei rolled his eyes. Oh. Was that all it was? He almost wanted to smack her for getting his hopes up.

"What _do_ you remember?" he asked coldly in a tone that suggested negative repercussions if she did not answer him correctly.

"I…well, I know where Miru is."

* * *

Yûsuke idly picked up a book, discovered that the title was in a language he didn't know, and dropped it.

"So, Jorge," he said conversationally. "Feel like helping us get back to Koenma's office?"

Jorge looked up, surprised. He had been fruitlessly trying to get the bookshelf back into an upright position.

"Koenma's office?"

Yûsuke blinked. "That's what I said, yeah…"

"That's another thing," Kuwabara ranted, wandering off to talk about his latest problem with people's speech.

Waving him off, Yûsuke crouched beside Jorge and smiled cheerfully. Jorge edged back a step or two—that smile was kind of creepy.

"So," he said, that grin still firmly in place. "Jorge. Feel like helping out your old buddies?"

"What, you mean you two?"

The smile wavered for a moment before Yûsuke dropped it altogether and looked at Jorge disbelievingly. "Are you serious?" he asked, deadpanning. Jorge nodded nervously. Yûsuke fell over.

"Kuwabara!" he called out as his friend came trotting back.

"What is it?" he asked with a hint of nervousness. He didn't _really_ want to get in trouble with these people, after all.

"Jorge is an idiot!"

"Oh, is that all?"

Taking offense at this comment, as anyone would, Jorge stood up with his fists on his hips and his face contorted into an interesting scowl. Yûsuke and Kuwabara cocked their heads in unison, observing him with identical curious expressions.

"You've got a funny tic in your forehead when you're mad," Kuwabara observed.

Jorge fumed. "Well just for that, maybe I _won't_ take you guys to see Lord Koenma!"

Yûsuke and Kuwabara exchanged a look. That was not a good thing; the ferry girls were probably warned to stay away from Jorge in the library, or at least knew enough to keep themselves in another sector of the palace, which mean they would have quite a time finding another guide.

"C'mon, Jorge, we were only kidding!" Yûsuke said jovially, throwing his arm over Jorge's shoulder.

"Yeah, now let's get going!" Kuwabara added with a brilliant smile.

Jorge found himself half dragged into the hall and stomped off down the corridor. He nearly missed the frantic footfalls of two young men chasing after him and smirked. There was at least one roundabout way to get to Koenma's office…

* * *

Kurama stepped forward, his face grim, and Hiei sensed that he was prepared and even eager to get violent, if need be. He remained in his position between them, equally prepared to stop the two from fighting. Gravatus simply stared at Hiei with owlish eyes, wide and attempting innocence with admirable success.

"Where is she?" Kurama asked in a hardened voice quite unlike his own. Hiei's head jerked up slightly as he was startled by the tone, his eyes a little wider. Kurama must be even angrier than he had anticipated…

Gravatus, meanwhile, had shifted her gaze from Hiei to Kurama upon hearing the dark query, startled and possibly even frightened. Hiei was tensely aware of his order than Kurama not get involved in interrogating this witness, so to speak. He should have reasoned that Kurama had never, to his knowledge, been one to follow orders… Wincing at his own shortsightedness, Hiei took another step forward, placing himself directly and obviously between Kurama and Gravatus. Kurama made a soft sound in the back of his throat that sounded displeased. Hiei ignored it.

Luckily, Gravatus seemed more than willing to comply without struggle. "She's in a large cave," she said plainly, though not as helpfully as Hiei had hoped. "Far off to the northeast. There's a lot of algae around."

"Algae?" Kurama asked sharply, and Hiei heard the small note of confusion behind his words. Gravatus nodded.

"I think she's near water," she said, now trying to be as helpful as possible. "I can give you the coordinates of seven or eight caves in the northeast that I know are—"

But they weren't quite sure what was so special about these caves, as the moment she reached those words, Gravatus collapsed on the ground, twitching violently. Hiei was at her side in an instant and Kurama was there not much after. They turned her over onto her back and tried to hold her head steady; Kurama instinctively felt for a pulse and Hiei rolled his eyes when the fox laid his fingers on her neck. He was far too accustomed to humankind, Hiei thought. He had checked for a human's pulse rather than a demon's central nucleus.

"I think—" Kurama began, but Hiei raised his hand suddenly to cut off any further declarations of her death.

"She hasn't got a pulse?" he asked derisively when Kurama glared at him. The fox blinked, looked down at his fingers, and blushed lightly for a mere moment before putting a hand to his head and closing his eyes.

"My God…" he muttered lowly, shaking his head. Hiei smirked for a second. He considered making a tart remark but decided against it; it wasn't entirely necessary. Kurama knew how stupid he had been.

Gravatus had stopped her thrashing, but twitched spastically. Hiei held her arms to the ground and rested his elbows across her chest, effectively keeping the motion above her waist to a minimum. He gestured towards her legs with a flick of his wrist and looked pointedly at Kurama, indicating that he should hold her down; the fox got the hint and grasped her ankles, pushing them firmly into the floor. They waited for another few minutes for her resistance to stop, and when it did, both released her. Her eyes remained closed and they grew slightly nervous, Hiei in particular. "A damp cave in the northeast" wasn't much of a clue, and if Gravatus failed them, they had no further leads.

"Will she wake?" Kurama asked softly, loosening his hold. Hiei glanced up and shrugged.

"Dunno. I don't know what happened to her."

Kurama sat back on his heels and pressed his palms to his eyes. Rocking back and forth, he said something so quietly, even Hiei missed it.

"What was that?"

Kurama glanced up at him with wet eyes and Hiei resisted the instinct to move away or even flee. Crying demons were dangerous demons, often on the verge of an attack fueled by powerful emotion. Resting his hand on the ground so as to push off and get a jump start if necessary, Hiei waited to hear the fox's words, not sure he wanted to hear them.

Kurama sniffled.

"I'm so sorry…"

* * *

"Gravatus" is Latin for "oppressed." I figured I'd break away from Japanese words used as names (titles, really) for a little bit. 


	10. Cry for Me

Disclaimer: funny thing about Varsity Books dot com: they suck. Really, their prices are way high and they don't even have my second semester texts posted yet.

_Fall_

_That everything I'll do for me  
Will be in the name of your lonely tear  
But stay now  
I'll do  
I believe in your power  
Will you believe in me?_

—_Lacuna Coil, "Soul into Hades"_

Chapter Nine: Cry for Me

Yûsuke dragged his feet, chips of pebbles scattering before him as he and Kuwabara followed Jorge down what must have been the fiftieth hall, or around what might have been the hundredth corner. Both had long since lost track, and it wasn't as though either thought he had a hope of remembering for future reference. Funny, Yûsuke had thought, that they had gone around several corners and down several halls that Yûsuke could have _sworn_ he had seen shortcuts through.

They came to a fork in the…hall, and Jorge chose the distinctly more twisting and winding corridor. They passed by several marked and unmarked doors and one open door through which Yûsuke could _clearly_ see a shortcut right to the other side of the hall! He put a hand out to stop Jorge, but the ogre chose that opportune moment to pick up his pace a bit, and Yûsuke completely missed. They reached the end of the winding hall in a timely fashion after that, and Jorge pointed them down one final passage before veering off and entering—hiding in, Yûsuke thought—another library. At least, that was what it seemed to be, though he only had a cursory glance into it before Jorge slammed the door shut.

Kuwabara was banging on the door Jorge had showed them to, yelling about opening it and what unfortunate things would befall Koenma if he refused. Yûsuke shrugged and joined in the festivities with some rather colorful curses.

There was a faint, almost inaudible whirring sound beside them which lasted only for a second or two, but when Yûsuke and Kuwabara turned their gazes to their common left, Botan was standing there with her hands on her hips, looking most irate. Kuwabara stopped his banging and Yûsuke stopped his swearing, both sweating a little and giving large, toothy smiles. Botan only rolled her eyes and stepped forward, right up to the door. Kuwabara and Yûsuke craned their necks around, watching her curiously.

Curling her hand slightly, she rapped her knuckles on the door. "Koenma sir?" she called clearly. "There's a pair of stubborn dimwits here to see you!"

"Hey—!"

But when the doors creaked open, both stubborn dimwits found it hard to argue with results.

Koenma, meanwhile, was sitting in his teenager body with his long fingers elegantly tented before him, his eyes shadowed and his shoulders firmly set back so that his neck was sticking out slightly. It was sort of intimidating, much more so than the little toddler had ever attempted in the past.

Edging into the room, Yûsuke and Kuwabara were too distracted to jump when the doors slammed shut behind them. Koenma looked up through his bangs and smiled eerily, making both boys shiver.

"Yes?" he asked in a slow drawl.

Yûsuke and Kuwabara exchanged a frightened look.

"Eheh…"

* * *

Hiei raised his eyebrows as he watched Kurama. The proud fox was reduced to tears, or so it seemed, his head in his palms, his shoulders moving with the slightest tremor, his form hunched over in an altogether undignified manner. Hiei wondered if he should put a comforting hand on his companion's shoulder (if he did, would it even be comforting?), scoot back against the wall and wait for Kurama to calm himself (would Kurama be able to calm himself if Hiei put too much distance between them?), try to rouse Gravatus (could she be roused at all?), or flee for his life (would he be able to get very far?).

One, two, three, four. Hiei pondered these options seriously and thought that he ought to do _something_, at least. If he didn't, Kurama was bound to…well, he wasn't quite sure what Kurama was bound to do, but it would surely be something bad. Unproductive, at least.

As it turned out, he didn't need to make much of a decision. Kurama raised his head and blinked, though it was not the innocently befuddled blink he used when denying having committed a crime. This was the face of a man who was truly miserable and had nothing else to do. Nothing to gain nor to lose, even. Something had happened, Hiei realized, something to break open the dam of Kurama's twisted thoughts and thoroughly fucked up mind, and now he needed to fix it. The only problem was, he had no idea _what_ had happened, or how to tend to it.

Placing his hands not on Kurama himself, but on the floor right before him to put Hiei in a catlike crouch, the demon looked back at his friend worriedly. "Kurama?" Hiei asked, keeping his voice soft. "What's wrong?"

With a gasping wail, Kurama pressed his palms to his eyes again and tried to stem the flow of tears. He succeeded—sort of—and Hiei easily resisted the minor urge to wipe away the tears that did manage to fall.

"Kurama…" Hiei tried again, sitting as close to Kurama as he could without touching him. "It's going to be okay. I…I admit I don't know how, or why I think it is, but something's telling me we're going to be all right. We'll get another informant or something, I don't know, this isn't the end of the world."

Kurama looked up again, his hands still covering his mouth and his eyes watering more than Hiei thought was necessary. "Oh, gods above, Hiei, you think I don't _know_ that?" Kurama slapped his hands down on the ground and looked at Hiei with such desperation, he wasn't quite sure what it meant.

Hiei rocked back on his heels and frowned, his features sharpening into a glare. Kurama took no notice of this, his gaze becoming only more desperate as he cried even more.

"I don't know what you know, Kurama," Hiei said snappishly. "In fact, I don't know _where_ you are, but it's certainly not here. What is wrong in your head? Something must have just set you off, but I _don't know what_! All you need to do is _tell_ me!"

Biting his lower lip and tightly closing his eyes, Kurama gave off the distinct impression that he was about to scream. Hiei took no action, merely staring the fox down and waiting for a response.

"It's not that easy," he said in a strained voice. "I—_can't_ just _tell_ you. You wouldn't _understand_."

"No!" Hiei bellowed, standing at once and towering over Kurama, who was bent over his knees. "No, I will not accept that as an answer! I am so sick of your egotistical, elitist attitude, Kurama, I can't even put it into _words_! If you would for once get down off your high horse and even _try_ to explain your problems to me—to _anyone_, it doesn't _have_ to be me—then maybe _we_ could help _you_ for once! But you're too busy being the bigger, older, wiser man and you won't accept anyone's help! _Please_, Kurama! The reason we don't even try to help you is that we know you won't _let_ us!"

Finally the tears welled in Kurama's eyes, spilling nearly the moment they appeared. "Do you think it's _fun_?" Kurama asked fiercely, standing as well. "Do you think I _like_ being who I am?"

As soon as the words were spoken, Kurama regretted them. In a shocked silence, he let his hand drift up to cover his mouth, which had dropped open in a small "o." Hiei stared at him, equally stunned and not quite sure what to do with the new information he had been given.

In the end, he tentatively reached out his hand and clapped Kurama's shoulder, withdrawing it at once. Kurama, however, seemed to take the contact as a signal that _more_ contact was all right as far as Hiei was concerned, and he fell forward into Hiei's arms, wrapping the small demon around himself. Flustered, Hiei let his arms rest around Kurama's quivering shoulders and patted his back weakly; the fox seemed appreciative of the small gesture and his choked sobs quieted a good bit. Still, Hiei frowned.

"What do you mean," he asked hesitantly, "when you say you don't like being who you are?"

As might have been anticipated, the question elicited another of Kurama's wailing sobs and he once more burrowed his face into the junction of Hiei's neck and shoulder.

"Please don't leave me," he cried in a shaking voice, his hands winding up to firmly grasp Hiei's shoulders. The demon idly rubbed small circles on Kurama's back, staring off into space over his friend's shoulder. Gravatus had yet to move, much less wake, so there was little else for him to do than think. He was getting sort of tired of thinking.

"What makes you think I'd do that?" he asked in a distracted tone, trying to focus his gaze on Gravatus's prone form lying before him. He probably hadn't actually done anything to make Kurama fear that he would leave…the fox was being paranoid. Again. Well, Hiei reasoned, at least he was _almost_ sane. Sort of. Paranoia was better than erratic and random non-thought, and almost useful in Makai. Better to be paranoid than too trusting, at least.

Kurama looked up with the wide eyes of a child. "Everyone does it," he said softly. "Right? You'll leave me someday, too."

Unwittingly, Hiei let a little pity creep its way down into his heart. Kurama was big and strong, and Kurama was the one they all fell back on, always. Not only would that weigh anyone down, but Kurama had problems of his own, probably more than the rest of them combined. He was beginning to feel guilty, which was something he could not afford then, or ever. Everyone needed something to help him get over his stumbling blocks, and if Hiei lost Kurama, he didn't know _what_ he would do. And what of Yûsuke or Kuwabara? They all depended on Kurama to help them through their lives. If he was lost, then what? Then where would they turn? What would they say? What would they _do_?

Hiei pulled Kurama closer to his chest in some sort of cross between a hug and a cling for his own sanity. Resting his cheek on his friend's head, he let out a soft sigh, somewhat forlorn. Kurama took no notice. On the contrary, he made a soft whining noise and turned his head down so that he could breath easier.

As he dared to remove one hand from Kurama, only to touch him again, Hiei raised his friend's head slightly and looked down at his face. "I might," he said in all seriousness, succeeding well enough in keeping his voice steady. "I won't lie to you. However, I will never _forget_ you. And one never knows…I might come back."

Though his tears had slowed, Kurama still cried a steady stream and sniffled pathetically, rubbing his eyes. Unable to keep from rolling his eyes at the sheer sentimentality, Hiei drew Kurama back against him in another clinging hug, bringing them down to a kneel to give himself a small height advantage.

A shrill scream broke the gentle aura that had settled over them. Gravatus had woken and sat up, clutching her head, giant eyes darting about wildly. Still, Kurama let himself be drawn to Hiei and in return, the fire demon did not release his grasp.

"Where am I?" Gravatus cried suddenly, turning to the entwined pair. Hiei glared at her roughly over the top of Kurama's head as the fox sighed against his skin. It wasn't quite that he liked the moment they had been sharing—well, he did, but that had not spurred his irritation. It was more that he felt the fox had suddenly made a great amount of progress, and he would have preferred to pursue it further. As well as the fact that he liked it.

"You're exactly where you were when you passed out," he snapped. "What happened to you?"

Gravatus looked around warily, her eyes finally landing on the pair some ways away, and frowned. "I had a vision," she said thinly. "A vision of sorts, at least."

Neither Hiei nor Kurama had moved at all once she began speaking, but a moment after she had stopped, Kurama turned himself over slowly in Hiei's arms and sat on his friend's thighs. He looked at Gravatus owlishly, his mouth open the slightest bit, as though he wished to speak but could not think of the words.

"So Miru wasn't trying to possess you?" he said finally. Gravatus shook her head.

"I wouldn't allow it if she did," she said, suddenly exhausted. Hiei frowned at her change in tone and moved to rest his chin in his palm, at which point he recognized that he was still clutching Kurama. He briefly considered letting go, but decided not to unless Kurama initiated the change. Damaging to the situation, he assured himself. Kurama was the one to call the shots and that was that.

"That," he noted, was also ridiculous. He wanted to stay curled around Kurama as much as Kurama seemed to want him there. He simply needed to stop lying to himself. Considering giving himself a sharp slap in the face, he decided that wouldn't do any good and refrained. He really _was_ acting a bit peculiar recently.

In the back of his mind, he registered that Kurama was speaking and that he should probably be listening.

"I wouldn't be certain of that," Kurama said softly, more to himself than to her, his eyes lowered to the ground. When he glanced up again, it was with sharp eyes, his focus instantly refined. "What do you mean when you say it was a vision 'of sorts'?"

Gravatus frowned. "I mean…it wasn't really a vision. It was an—an image…of the present." She fidgeted nervously under his scrutiny and Hiei wasn't sure whether he had or hadn't helped by adding his own harsh gaze. Determining that it couldn't matter much, he continued to await her further explanation and naturally _didn't_ release his hold on Kurama (who didn't seem to mind at all).

"I saw blood," she said haltingly, visibly sweating. "A knife—a snake—cutting flesh, like a torture, some kind of horrible scream, a needle—no, no, I've got it: _hundreds_ of needles—"

"That's the first time I've ever heard someone mix up 'one' with 'several hundred,' " Hiei muttered into Kurama's ear, trusting that in Gravatus's frantic state, she wouldn't hear. Indeed she did not, and Hiei found that he had even elicited a titter from his friend, evidenced only by the light vibrations against Hiei's legs. Kurama seemed, again, to be on the road to recovery. It would be long and full of sharp obstacles, but they would make it down the road and emerge from the city of cold glass—together—and pull one another out. Life would be okay.

He would make it so.

* * *

Koenma continued to look at them severely, his gaze intimidatingly omnipotent. Yûsuke shoved Kuwabara forward and Kuwabara shoved him right back, resulting in a brief squabble and ending in Yûsuke bent over the edge of Koenma's desk, his nose bleeding slowly. He grinned, showing all his teeth and overcompensating for his nervousness.

"We want to help find Hiei and Kurama," Yûsuke said in a loud rush, keeping the silly smile on his face the entire time. "And we figured, you know, you would be the best place to start looking!"

Koenma raised an eyebrow skeptically. "How does a person become a place to start looking?"

"You're not a person, you're a demi-deity," Kuwabara mentioned from his place in the back of the office. Koenma let his gaze flicker there before locking back onto Yûsuke with laser precision.

Yûsuke was, predictably, nodding without giving the comment much thought. Rolling his eyes, said demi-deity stood and walked around his desk, pressing seemingly random buttons on a seemingly random pedestal full of brightly colored switches and things. Yûsuke and Kuwabara edged over to peer around his shoulders and watch his work, although it was impossible to understand. (Truth be told, much of it served no actual purpose, but gave off the illusion that Koenma kept strings of long codes locked away in his head to be used for running such complex machinery as a video recorder.)

Finally, the large screen Koenma used for spying on people fell from the ceiling and buzzed unpleasantly. Yûsuke and Kuwabara watched it with matching interest as the picture cleared on, of all things…

…a large field. Unfortunately for the would-be detectives, the field had nothing in it but grass. And it wasn't even particularly unusual-looking grass, nor was it largely healthful. Most of it was crispy, crumbling brown, and the green stuff was unpleasantly stiff.

"Special," Yûsuke noted derisively. Kuwabara murmured an agreement and frowned.

Koenma huffed impatiently. "Regardless of your lacking respect," he said icily, "this is a spot where Hiei _was_ recently. It took a good deal of time to find it, so you had better appreciate all the work I put into this crap for you people!"

"Oh, please," Yûsuke said. "If Hiei's running around unchecked with a mentally unstable Kurama at his heels, you really think you've got nothing vested in their safe return? Half of the demon realm would be under their control in an hour if they wanted it!"

"Well…"

"You know," Kuwabara pondered, "he's got a point."

"…fine." Koenma glared at the floor, his imposing image effectively ruined. "Let's get to work."

* * *

"Hiei," Kurama said softly, reaching up to pet his friend's arm.

"Mm?" Hiei grunted back, still listening to Gravatus with half an ear. Kurama would undoubtedly be more interesting.

"Hiei, do you trust me?"

Hiei blinked. Usually the answer would be "Yes," with no thought at all. But at the moment…well, did he really? Did he consider them equals? No, he really didn't. But was the true answer the right one?

Kurama seemed to take his silence as answer enough. "I see," he said. "That's good to know."

It was hard to miss the hurt in his gentle tone. Hiei looked away and frowned, disappointed in himself.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Usually I do—"

"But not now," Kurama interrupted him. "I know. It's all right."

Somehow, Hiei sensed that it was not all right at all.

But that was another matter for another day.

"I think Miru was trying to tell me something, as well, though the memory is unclear…"

The duo found their attention instantly snapped back to Gravatus at her frustrated words.

"What was that?"

* * *

If you read "Balance" with loads of attentiveness, you might recognize the emergence from city of cold glass to an outstretched hand offered by a friend. Well, it's been modified slightly, so it's okay if you didn't. Hiei has, unwittingly perhaps, become so drawn into Kurama's world that he cannot escape it without Kurama's help. In order to leave the city of cold glass, which, in "Balance," was a sort of metaphor for Kurama's thoroughly fucked up mind as expressed to him through a frightening dream, they will need to work together and support one another. If that gives away too much of the ending, I apologize. If you _think_ it gives away too much of the ending and then you get to the ending, whenever that happens, as it hasn't been written yet, and it turns out you were wrong, well, then…that's good for me, I guess. 


	11. If I Said to You

Disclaimer: I've just realized, I really dislike my school. The people (that is, my friends—at least, most of them, a great percentage of the time) are great, but I truly cannot wait to get out of there.

_Fall_

_I wanna know  
If you'll stay for sure  
So tell me now  
Make it clear before I'm in too far_

—_Bellefire, "Don't Let Me Down"_

Chapter Ten: If I Said to You

Gravatus put her head in her hands and opened her mouth, panting heavily. Kurama frowned at the purposeful dramatic intent, finding it unnecessary. Again, she panted. Her chest heaved enticingly, and Hiei frowned, as well. She was _not_ trying to hit on them.

After a time, Gravatus glanced up as though the movement took great effort. Her eyes drooping thin, she heaved another few breaths for good measure and Hiei noticed her gauging their reactions. He was pleased to note she seemed frustrated with what she saw. Raising his eyebrow, he silently requested her response to their questions.

She sighed. "I don't know exactly _what_ she was trying to say. Probably dissuade me from telling you where she was."

"And the blood?" Kurama interrupted. Hiei looked down at him curiously, surprised at his nervous tone. Gravatus seemed not to have noticed as she closed her eyes tightly and shook her head; Hiei was sure it was more theatrics, but he wouldn't call her on it, lest she stop being so helpful.

She blinked and looked at them again, her eyes teary. "I-I don't know about the blood," she said thickly. Now Hiei was _sure_ she was putting on a show, probably for Kurama. He found himself moving between annoyance and mild anger. "A knife was cutting into skin, but the skin wasn't bleeding—it, it turned into a snake—"

"What did?" Hiei asked curtly.

Gravatus looked more than a little irate at the interruption as she diverted her attention from the fox to the fire. "The flesh did," she said with a whimper, making sure to stress her words and make them sound as gruesome as possible. Unfortunately for her, Hiei had _seen_ far worse, so a little word choice would be no problem for him. "The knife was cutting into a snake," Gravatus continued to whine, sniffling with a loud snort. Hiei cringed. "There was blood _everywhere_, and I was so frightened…"

Kurama rolled his eyes. "I suppose you would be," he said. Hiei let his mood lighten a little as he detected a fine layer of impatience in his friend's voice. Kurama was not falling for her act, either. "But what was the _point_ of it all?"

Again, Gravatus seemed more than a bit put out at her melodramatics not being taken seriously. Was she seriously trying to woo Kurama, of all people? It was a foolish undertaking; Hiei could speak from experience. The fox effectively rendered any potential suitors, human and demon alike, into nonsensical, blathering fools. Although, he pondered, that could be to their advantage…

"I'm…not sure," Gravatus said finally. "I think it was a—warning. A warning not to tell you anymore about her, or where she might be hiding. But I…I'm _tired_ of taking orders. I used to be so much stronger than her powers allow her to be, and I used to be so much greater than I am now, but…but I don't know what happened. It all sort of fell away. And now I'm here, and no one remembers me—I'm sure she doesn't, either. She's only sensing me now, and she knows I'm a threat of some small degree. So I'll tell you everything I know."

Her poor attempt at a seductive attitude had fallen away all at once, and Hiei nodded his approval at her willingness to talk. This girl was not deluded by promises of power which would never be fulfilled, nor by the offer of being saved by her captor if she complied with certain rules and regulations. She was not quite battle worn, being so young—Hiei estimated her at about 60 or 70 years of age—but she had seen some horrors and certainly experienced a few in Miru's hold.

As Gravatus talked and Kurama listened with rapt attention, Hiei found his thoughts trailing elsewhere. No doubt Gravatus's attempt to romanticize her condition had been due to years, however many, of entrapment without any intelligent contact. Yet Kurama had shunned it smartly, not falling for her tricks at all, as though he was not even considering a romantic partner. Hiei suspected, if he wasn't sure, that Kurama was still—unless it was "again"—interested in him, but that the fox would make a move or shun an alternative was not foreseen.

And that Gravatus would attempt to attract either of them was weird. Did she even know who Kurama was? It depended on several things, most of which involved her upbringing, but even if she did, she probably would not recognize his prettily green-eyed human form. So her attempts at attraction had been purely desperate, but knowing that she had a better chance of eliciting help from them by giving them information, she had changed tactics at once. She was a strange creature, but probably the most helpful they had found so far, leaping several stages beyond her intended purpose to move their quest along faster than expected. If Hiei had been in a position to do such a thing, he would have made sure she was heavily rewarded.

Or…

…rewarded enough.

No sense in going overboard.

* * *

Yûsuke peered curiously at the screen where the field was still visible. Kuwabara was pointing to a recently trodden path and claiming that Kurama and Hiei had certainly just been there. Koenma reclined against his desk, watching the pair critically.

"…I'm sorry," Yûsuke said, shaking his head. "I just don't see it."

Kuwabara stood up straight and stamped his foot out of impatience. "You are impossible!" he cried out, waving his hands. "I thought you were good at this whole 'sensing' business!"

A badly muffled chuckle filtered out from the desk behind them. Yûsuke turned with an instinctive glare and Kuwabara glanced over curiously, his frustration momentarily forgotten. The two looked at each other, then back at Koenma.

"What?"

Koenma snorted, pinching his nose in a weird attempt to stop his laughter. "Nothing!" he cried out amidst further giggles.

The pair exchanged a skeptical glance.

"But…?"

Laughing again, Koenma grinned widely and closed his eyes, looking a little creepily excited. "You sound like an old married couple!" he exclaimed.

Kuwabara rolled his eyes and Yûsuke shook his head, sorely disappointed. Both had heard the claim several times before and both were firmly set in and quite comfortable with their masculinity, so neither took offense, but still…it was more than a little annoying.

"Whatever," Kuwabara said, brushing off the claim. Yûsuke nodded his agreement and studied the screen once more before drawing back and shaking his head.

"Sorry, Kuwabara, I don't see it. Sense it. Er…notice it. But you do, obviously, so why not pan out in the direction you sense they've gone? Maybe we'll find them quicker that way than if we wait for Koenma to get his ass on the job."

Kuwabara put his finger to his chin, his eyes narrowed. "True," he said ponderously, "very true. So," he turned to Koenma, "how do we move the lens on this thing?"

Koenma proffered a remote control and pointed to the large, flat buttons on its surface. "These are 'zoom in' and 'zoom out,' " he explained, "and this one is 'pan left' and this one is 'pan right.' "

"Simple," Yûsuke said approvingly. Koenma offered him a dry glare and backed away, leaving them to do as they pleased. At least, leaving Kuwabara to do as he saw necessary.

Meanwhile, the view had already zoomed in on the ground, a most disorienting shot from the grass's perspective, and Kuwabara guided the lens along a specific, seemingly step-by-step path. Yûsuke looked from the screen to his friend and back…and settled in for a long wait.

Koenma yawned.

* * *

The walk was long and the talk was cheap. Kurama made no move to begin some insightful conversation and Hiei had since resigned himself to a heavy silence. Anything that _was_ said was more along the lines of "Have you been counting kilometers?" or "We're nearly there, I think." Once, Kurama even deigned to say: "Nice weather today."

They were, in fact, growing close to the caves, and Hiei was hyperaware of how tense they were to one another. If they were so tense in such close company, he could only imagine how they were going to deal with ripping answers from Miru's throat (or ripping Miru's throat from Miru's neck, he thought blithely). Kurama might completely lose his head and kill her without delay (or try to, at least), which would solve nothing. He needed apologies—sincere ones—and explanations.

Hiei idly noticed that he had been frowning an awful lot lately. He had thought it all warranted at the times, respectively, but in hindsight, was he overreacting? Kurama was recovering—slowly, but he had made great progress. Gravatus had not seen men (or women, he thought, in all likelihood) for several years, and she might have been something of a slut before Miru had locked her in the dungeon where they had found her. If so, it made a lot of sense that her first reaction would have been to hit on them. Yes, he decided finally, he was probably frowning too much. He wouldn't mind so much if he wasn't thinking of his image. That was to say, his presence as a stoic. Perhaps Kurama needed someone to be a wall for him to lean on, and if that was the case, Hiei could not afford to show any emotion at all, anger and frustration included.

"Hiei?"

"Mm?"

Kurama was smiling wryly, leading Hiei to believe he had done _something_ wrong, at least marginally. He quirked an eyebrow a bit and Kurama turned away, his smile changing into an amused grin. Hiei was sort of cute, in a weird way, when he was trying to figure out what he had done wrong when, in fact, he had done nothing at all.

"We're nearly there," Kurama said, gesturing vaguely to the caves and forested areas before them. "How do you think we ought to search the caves and all that?"

Almost silently, almost unnoticeably, Hiei breathed a small sigh of relief, and Kurama smiled again.

"I could…well," Hiei said thoughtfully, "I could rush in and check each cave and rush out before I was noticed, but that wouldn't be very wise, I suppose."

"No," Kurama agreed, "it wouldn't."

Hiei blinked at the interruption, but didn't turn his head. He frowned and furrowed his brow in contemplation. "The only reasonable solution I can see is for us to sneak into each cave and be prepared for Miru to be hiding in each one."

Clearly, this conclusion did not sit well with Kurama, but unless he could come up with a more plausible alternative, Hiei was prepared to insist his plan be carried out. It appeared that Kurama had assumed as much and come to the same standstill in his mind, and he shrugged, trying to pretend it didn't _really_ matter, even when it did.

"All right," Kurama said dismissively. "Shall we begin with the cave closest to the edge, then?"

Hiei nodded, suspicious of Kurama's lack of protest. Kurama had surely interpreted his words and intentions correctly, but still, a sly word or subtle resistance should have been slipped into his agreement. Well perhaps he was _not_ quite over his…mental incapacity yet. Hiei would wait. The air seemed to be doing wonders, anyway.

The pair wandered over to the cave casually but upon reaching the entrance, instantly slid into "undercover mode," lowering their energies sufficiently and doing their best to blend into the darkness. Neither really suspected Miru to be making residence in the _first_ cave (too obvious and easily spotted), but she might have been going for the typical "they think I'll be there so they'll look elsewhere, so I'll be there." Kurama was doing an admirable job of keeping his steps silent, and Hiei's black cloak was blending him into the walls. Neither was especially detectable.

Hiei jerked his head toward the back of the cave and widened his eyes meaningfully, hoping Kurama would get the hint. It seemed he did, and nodded in return. The pair slid another few steps down the path and then, simultaneously, glided noiselessly and nearly invisibly into the far chamber, finding it empty but for a few decaying skeletons. Kurama wrinkled his nose in distaste, but the pair walked back out with no further reaction and positioned themselves at the second cave's gateway.

"Breathe, Kurama."

* * *

Yûsuke stood and stretched, yawning exaggeratedly. Kuwabara nearly shot him a mild glare, but refrained, keeping his eyes on the screen as he jostled the "pan" buttons.

"Find 'em?" Yûsuke asked, watching the screen as though he understood what Kuwabara was doing. The taller boy shook his head.

"Not yet," he said, frowning. "I don't know if they're just moving quickly or if they tried to hide their tracks, but it's hard to follow them to wherever they've gone."

Koenma took a step closer and cocked his head, nodding at the image. It moved through the grass like some sort of rabbit, the view barely skimming the blades as it moved left, then right, then sort of sideways at a funny angle. Kuwabara noticed the demigod's interest and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"So, Koenma," he deadpanned, turning slightly. "What do you think of this shot? I was trying to decide if they'd gone south southeast or south southwest. Any opinion on the matter?"

Nodding conspiratorially, Koenma leaned in towards Kuwabara as though to convey some secret thought. "Well," he whispered, "I didn't want to say anything, you know, to disrupt the process, but I was distinctly picking up the impression that they were moving south southwest."

"Yeah?"

"Indeed."

"Because they're moving north northeast."

"…oh."

Yûsuke muffled his giggles (chuckles, as he would call them, because boys do _not_ giggle) and wandered in aimless circles until Kuwabara had shooed Koenma away so the big boys could do their work. Feeling it was his duty to…do some work, Yûsuke made his way over to the monitor and studied it, all the while knowing he had no hope of understanding any of the imagery until Kuwabara explained it.

Koenma scowled.

* * *

Kurama graced Hiei with a sour glare. "I _don't_ want to hear that everything will be all right," he snapped. Hiei made sure not to look perplexed or affronted.

"I know," he said instead. "That's why I didn't say that, or anything like it."

"You were _thinking_ it."

Hiei sighed tiredly. He was sick of Kurama's outbursts, emotional or violent it didn't really matter. He wanted to comfort and help his friend, but there was only so much he could put up with. He thought he had been amazingly tolerant already, not even showing signs of his limits being pushed to their furthest extents.

"No, Kurama, I wasn't," he said in a dull monotone. "I was thinking that you need to relax a bit. That won't make everything all right, but it will help you to calm yourself before something bad happens to you."

Kurama snarled like a misunderstood teenager. Hiei blinked at his mind's odd choice of analogies, but let it slide all the same. They walked at a slow, silent glide, though either was in danger of blowing their cover to any potential threat at any moment. In fact, Hiei was nervous that Kurama would step too hard or trip over a small stone. The normally graceful fox was walking with jerky motions, soundless and ungainly all at once. His was really more of a tiptoe than anything, used for hiding but not sneaking.

The pair continued slowly, Hiei trying his best to set the pace and keep Kurama under control. He didn't sense anyone in the corridors ahead, but that might have been all the better; he wanted to have as much time as possible to sort out how Kurama would react before he actually had to do so.

Successfully, they approached the final room exactly as they had approached all the others: silently and pressed to the dark walls in the hall. Kurama's hair was thickened with dust and grime from pressing against the slimy caves and Hiei made sure to tilt his head forward slightly so as not to dirty it. He didn't really care, but it seemed like the thing to do, making up for Kurama's lack of usually anal cleanliness.

Then for seemingly no reason, Kurama stopped short, all semblances of normalcy vanishing as he looked at Hiei curiously. "You know," he said finally, "that good doesn't always triumph over evil, right?"

Hiei needed a moment to recover from that question and he took one, stopping as well to peer at his companion with his head cocked slightly to the left. "Are you serious?" he asked suspiciously. Kurama blinked and nodded a few times. Three, Hiei counted.

"Of course I am. What else would I be?"

"I…I don't know," Hiei admitted. "Joking with me, I suppose. Trying to make me look the fool."

Kurama shook his head. "Well I'm not. I can't give you more than my word. But," he reminded, "you didn't answer my question."

"True, true."

A moment passed in which Kurama awaited a response and received none.

"Are you planning to?"

"Hm?" Hiei looked at Kurama tiredly, as though he had been awoken from a pleasant slumber. (Though truthfully, he had not had one of those in several years and thus did not know quite how one would look upon coming out of it.) "Good and evil, was it?"

Hiei did not need to look at Kurama to know he was frowning deeply as he spoke, but he did anyway. "Yes," the redhead snapped, "you know exactly what it was, and you are deliberately treating me as some inferior. Stop it right now!"

"I am treating you as no such thing," Hiei retorted smartly. "I am merely speaking to you as I feel, which is _tired_ of you and _tired_ of this mission and _tired_ because I have not slept well in _years_!"

There was no reply which could be given to this outrage besides a stunned, somewhat slack-jawed gaze, which Kurama exhibited perfectly. Finally he found his voice, and he was clearly Not Pleased.

"Not sleeping well?" he asked, his voice low.

"That is hardly the most pressing of concerns and you know it," Hiei snapped, eager to skip right past his idle filler complaints.

"Bored with Hell?" Kurama continued, ignoring him completely.

"I didn't say that, you're twisting my words," Hiei said, working himself up into a rage despite himself.

"Sick of me?" Kurama asked in the quietest tone of all, so that even Hiei had to strain to catch it.

And everything became a little too hard.

"What if I _am_? Eh? What _then_?" Hiei was furious and raging, not at Kurama but at Miru, at what she had done to the man he might have loved, once, at what she had done to countless demons all throughout Hell, and what she doubtlessly continued to do to more of them and certainly continued to do to him. She had not only forced him into feeling love, but maybe even forced him out of it, which, as far as Hiei was concerned, was a most serious infraction. "Well, Kurama?" he continued, the volume of his voice rising with every word. "What will you do if I am _sick_ of _you_? My God, Kurama, I'd be the first to admit I that loved you, but you are certainly making it as hard for me as you _possibly_ can!"

Kurama smiled a secret little smile and Hiei, hearing his own words as if on a playback reel, found that he did not regret finally letting them slip. Maybe things would become simpler now.

Then again, maybe they would not.


	12. Systematic Death Song

Disclaimer: I have three fickle, fickle friends. And would you believe, tomorrow is Valentine's Day. (Well, by the time this is finished, it certainly won't be, but today, the day I'm beginning it, tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Prepare for a slew of Valentine's themed fics.) Not that the two are related, but…well, I'm a little frustrated.

**Edit: ** See there, the note above? I wrote it when I began this chapter and left it in to yell at myself. I'm sorry this took forever and a day, but life has been a lot harder this year than I'd anticipated.

_Fall_

_Remember yesterday_  
_And think about tomorrow_  
_But you have to live today_  
_Oh, lonely yesterday_  
_Don't leave me with the sorrow_  
_Cause I have to live today_

—_Hammerfall, "Remember Yesterday"_

Chapter Eleven: Systematic Death Song

If one were to ask Hiei how he reacted to his unprecedented outburst, he would have replied "With quiet, musing dignity," or something of the sort.

If one were to ask Kurama the very same question, he would have replied "Sulking all along the rest of the caves and I could swear he tried to give me the slip a few times," or something similar.

And it wasn't even as though Kurama had let him brood over the thing.

"Did you see me smiling?" he asked at one point. Hiei frowned magnificently and nodded once, shortly, his eyes narrowed and pointedly looking The Other Way. Kurama felt himself beginning to grin again at this shame (he called it shame, whether Hiei did or not) but hid it admirably, remaining completely straight faced. He wondered briefly if that was another sign of mental instability.

Neither spoke for a few moments after this, until Hiei said, still without looking at Kurama:

"Why did you do it?"

Kurama looked pleasantly confused at the question, though Hiei didn't see. "Do what?" Kurama asked, toying with his partner and loving every moment of it.

Hiei sighed meditatively, trying to calm his temper. "Why did you smile like that?" he asked woodenly. Kurama could no longer contain his grin, but it didn't really matter, as Hiei staunchly refused to turn his head from the fascinating scenery.

"Well, only because I knew it all along," he explained flippantly, which he knew would irritate Hiei to some great end (and indeed it did). "You see, I found it funny that you should tell me in such a fashion," he elaborated, looking at the back of his friend's head. "Knowing it for some time, I must admit I envisioned how you would express your love at first, and your accidentally blurting it out while simultaneously expressing your irritation with me was not one of my imagined scenarios."

"Well, that makes it even funnier," Hiei said scathingly. Kurama softened his smile and patted the top of Hiei's head.

"You are quite cute," Kurama said fondly. Hiei shrugged him off, finally turning his head to glare. He wished to end the conversation, to silence the fox, but the game had begun and the fox would not be stopped until it was completed.

Kurama smiled warmly, which annoyed Hiei some (clearly the intent). "Has anyone ever told you that before?" he asked in a sweet, paternal tone that made Hiei shiver as he shook his head.

"Not unless it was a prelude to attempted rape," he muttered icily. "Certainly not; I think anyone who might have said it would know better."

The statement was punctuated by two different laughs, one harsh and short and the other soft and light. Kurama was doing a perfect job throwing Hiei off balance and they both knew it, which did nothing to stop it from happening.

"This is the second-to-final cave," Hiei said, pointing to a large hole in the ground. "Either she's in here, or she's in that one down the road there, or we've been given shoddy information and she's not around here at all."

Kurama nodded his agreement. "Oh, I do hope that's not the case," he said with a small frown. "I'd hate to go running all over this land _again_, simply to find _her_."

Hiei honored that complaint with a small grunt and eased himself down into the fissure, which turned out to be more shallow than he had anticipated. He landed on his backside, entirely undignified, and stood, dusting off his cloak with obvious indignation. To his mild amusement, Kurama also misjudged the depth of the drop and landed in a similar fashion, but seemed less mortified to the point of indifference, which was almost more annoying. Muttering quietly, Hiei stalked off down the only apparent pathway, into the overbearing darkness.

Kurama followed.

* * *

"So, see that? Right there. See?"

Yûsuke cocked his head and squinted. "Sort of, I think. Is it pink? Or—no, wait, that's not what I mean. Is it black? I mean—hey, wait a minute…"

Kuwabara smirked. "Yeah, well. That's a good sign, really it is. I see it changing, too. Can you tell which is which?"

"Well, Kurama's is the pink, right? Then Hiei's is the black?"

"That was a trick question. Right, of course."

Yûsuke glowered. " 'Of course,' he says. Well, fine, whatever. Can we get going now?"

"I guess this is the best we're going to get. It might be easier to track them once we get there, anyway." Kuwabara nodded. "What do you say, Koenma?"

The demigod shrugged. "It's your funeral."

"So not funny," Yûsuke said as he started for the door. Koenma giggled.

"If you want," he said, raising his hand to attract their attention, "I can get you a portal to the field you were talking about. It might take a few minutes, but I'm sure it would be faster than walking."

Yûsuke and Kuwabara exchanged a glance and conferred for a moment, turning their backs to Koenma as they whispered.

"It probably _would_ be faster," Kuwabara said. Yûsuke nodded, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure it would, but we'd be taking up one of _Koenma's_ offers. Do we really want to do that?"

"Do we really want to find Kurama and Hiei?"

"Point taken."

The two turned back to Koenma, both sporting supremely dark grins. Koenma raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair.

"Come to a conclusion, have you?"

"Well, we're not giving them back to _you_ when we find them," Yûsuke said his grin widening.

"We're not even sure we'll _tell_ you when we find them," Kuwabara added, his expression matching Yûsuke's.

Koenma raised his other eyebrow. "Just find them, and then we'll work out what to do from there."

Both boys faltered a bit at that. "O…kay, I guess."

Koenma grinned smugly. "All right then. Come this way, gentlemen. Your portal awaits."

* * *

Hiei pressed his hands against the wall and walked as quietly as he could manage. Kurama slunk along behind him with all his usual grace and stealth—Hiei frowned. Kurama was getting bipolar, which was even worse than his frustrating mindlessness. The "normal" periods (the ones when he was most like himself, of course) were like a blissful reprieve from everything facing the two of them at Miru's hands, but the rest of the time was hell. No pun intended, he amended hastily, glancing out the gaping hole behind him into the dull terrain.

Suddenly, then, Kurama was in front of him. He refrained from jerking back in surprise, but his disdain was clearly expressed on his face. They were supposed to be working _together_, which meant _not_ surprising one another. Of course, if he mentioned that, Kurama would accuse him of not paying attention, which was true.

"Do you sense anything?" Hiei asked roughly, not acknowledging Kurama's presence. Maybe Kurama would see through his gruffness to insecurity, but maybe not. It was impossible to know for sure.

"I don't think so," Kurama said in a balancing, offhanded way. "Then, I don't think I would trust my own instincts right now, so don't make any decisions based on what _I_ sense."

"Don't worry," Hiei muttered. He hadn't really cared whether Kurama sensed anything or not. Kurama smiled lightly, also not caring.

They continued on in silence for a time until Hiei felt his knees brushing uncomfortably against something he certainly could not see. His brow furrowed in concentration and confusion, he brushed his fingers lightly against the offending spot and found that, while it appeared to be nothing but empty space, it felt like a solid surface of porcelain or glazed plaster. Kurama turned slightly to see what had stopped his companion, but did not draw any nearer to inspect the invisible solid whatever.

"Porcelain?" Hiei asked, still not looking over to the fox. Kurama shrugged, unnoticed. Hiei frowned, looking up and down the empty space. "Is there any reason she would be keeping porcelain?"

"I can't think of one, but she's been full of surprises, hasn't she?"

"I suppose, but this is so odd…"

There seemed to be nothing _on_ the porcelain, either, which made it even more confusing. Perhaps in some child's playhouse, an invisible shelf could hold ghastly eyes and severed heads to frighten his friends, but here it meant nothing. And how was it kept invisible? How was it even made invisible at all? What did it all _mean_, and why did it _matter_ so much?

Hiei punched the surface and was startled to find it completely unyielding, his fist reddening even at the brief contact.

"What in the world…"

Kurama was on his other side then, touching the surface hesitantly. "Feels cold," he observed sincerely, his eyes darting down to Hiei's red knuckles with mild concern. The other glowered, covering his wound by carefully turning his body, only slightly, away and towards the wall. Both ran their fingers across the invisible surface, seeking its reason for being and finding little.

Aggravated and momentarily thinking in a haze of anger, Hiei punched the wall again, regretting the move even before his fist hit the solid surface—

"Hiei—!"

—and jolting in surprise when he easily shattered it to pieces.

"What—"

Kurama was at his side in an instant, tending to the wound even though it was already healing at an alarming speed. Hiei shook his hand away, observing the injury and subsequent repair. Not bad, definitely not deterring or permanently harmful. He touched the spot he had shattered with a strange delicacy, fondling the bleeding shards. The shelf itself was still invisible, but the blood was certainly not. Hiei touched it delicately, softly, admiringly. The sharp edge threatened to bite into him again.

"But what is it for?" he asked in a whisper, to himself. Kurama drew nearer and placed his hand on Hiei's shoulder.

"Do you suppose," Kurama asked quietly, conspiratorially, "that there is something invisible on top of the invisible shelf? Something we are supposed to find because we are not supposed to find it?"

Hiei frowned. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Simply that Miru does not wish it to be found by anyone but us, and she does not think it will be because no one else would be so suspicious or paranoid as to search."

A soft grunt. "What I want to know is why some of it is made of some pliable stuff and some of it isn't," Hiei said, touching the surface and two separate places and trying to feel a difference. Both were cold. Both felt frozen. Both felt as though they might burn.

"Fire and ice?" he said to himself, moving his fingers as though playing a piano scale. Kurama followed along in his fingerprints, replicating the motions perfectly.

"So cold they might burn," Kurama said, also to himself, though Hiei heard and knew he was intended to. Hiei nodded, not thinking of his actions.

Then suddenly they _did_ burn, but not either's skin—musical notes were burned seemingly in midair, imprinting upon the cold surface. Hiei did not know how to play the piano and could not read them, but Kurama, who had studied musical theory in secondary school, recognized the pattern and began to hum along. As he did so, the notes began to play themselves; curiously, Hiei did nothing to interfere.

The piece was a classical one, soft and lilting and, Hiei realized with a start, accurately described as _romantic_. It was a song of mourning, he thought, and quite an odd one at that; he might recognize parts of it, but he didn't know from where.

"Claire de Lune," Kurama said dreamily, not so much to Hiei as to himself. The fire demon nodded; he didn't recognize the name, but he was beginning to recognize the piece. It had to mean something, that was certain; Miru probably wasn't well enough versed in humans' music to choose the piece for its sound, so the trick had to be in the name. Claire de lune. What language was that? A human one, of course. Italian? French? Italian didn't have a word "claire," he didn't think, so it must be French. "Lune" was "moon," obviously, and "claire" was probably "clear" or "clarity."

"Clarity of the moon"? "Clear moon"? Surely he was correct in his translation, but what the hell was that supposed to mean? What did a clear moon have to do with anything?

He looked up at Kurama, who did not appear to be giving the matter any thought.

Finally, he ventured to speak. "Do you understand?" he asked softly. Kurama looked down at him with soft, dim eyes and a sad, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

Kuwabara and Yûsuke walked in silence for much of the way to the portal—it was a ways, as Koenma claimed that there was no feasible way to set one up nearer to his office (though neither boy really believed that)—but when they reached what Koenma informed them was the last hallways, both burst out at once:

"I'm going first."

Without even a breath in between phrases, both continued with equal fervor:

"No way, I am!"

As the pair continued bickering like an old married couple (with more than one phrase repeated at the same time by both boys), Koenma watched with quiet amusement. It wasn't terribly often that they argued with one another in such a stupid fashion; usually their complaints were directed at him by way of tag teaming. Still, he reminded himself sternly after awhile, there were more pressing matters at hand; namely the portal that would just as soon close as wait for the pair of them to finish screaming.

"They were _my_ friends first—"

"Oh, please! Hiei wanted to flash fry you the first time you met!"

"Boys."

Bicker, bicker. Koenma rolled his eyes.

"Well he wasn't exactly eager to make _your_ acquaintance!"

"At least he didn't try to _kill_ me!"

"Boys!"

"Maybe, but I—"

"_Boys_!"

Both young men stopped arguing and looked up, both still seething. Koenma glowered.

"Will you be leaving _today_, perhaps?"

Exchanging a mildly bewildered look, the boys smiled awkwardly and nodded.

"Now _one_ of you please step through the portal to be followed _immediately_ by the other, so it does not _matter_ who is first." Koenma gestured to the portal vaguely and watched the boys glower at one another. "Right _now_," he insisted, stamping his foot. Kuwabara and Yûsuke stalked towards the portal, shoving one another. Finally reaching it, they tripped into the darkness in such a way that while Yûsuke's head preceded Kuwabara's, the taller man's leg matched him. They would argue about it later, of course, but the rest is unimportant.

Koenma wrung his hands as they disappeared. "Damn… I wonder the consequences this will have on the rest of the world… Potentially disastrous, I'm sure. Should one of them do something to offend a strong demon; they haven't fought in years! And now it's too late to call them back—what was I _thinking_?"

The demigod fretted busily as he walked back to his office, his head in his hands. Then he perked up randomly, shrugging.

"Well! Time for squid!"

* * *

"Shall I take that as a 'no'?"

Though his tone held no bitterness, Hiei sensed that Kurama was displeased. Had he done something wrong? Was he reacting incorrectly? He hoped it was not so, but anything was possible. The fox continued his sad smile and looked on the verge of tears. Hiei nearly reached up to stem them, touching Kurama's cheek, before he realized that no tears had fallen.

The sad smile was almost frightening, and Hiei wished for it to go away. Even if it was not a thing to be scared of, it was somehow wrong, and there had been enough of that. More than enough. Hiei frowned sourly, but it was out of nerves rather than anger. Kurama hummed along to the clear moon.

"Help me understand."

"But I don't know what it means."

"That doesn't matter."

Kurama looked at Hiei with the same dulled eyes, but his expression was turned in a confused fashion, as might be expected. Hiei noted the lack of emotion and presence of "I act as I am supposed to," but made no comment. He needed to understand, and if that meant he needed to explain the situation to the one who would explain it to him, then so be it. Ignoring the lack of actual rationale behind his reasoning, Hiei watched Kurama expectantly with a hint of desperation, in case that spurred the fox into action.

"Of course it does."

"No, it doesn't. You're thinking too much."

"I need to balance out the fact that you are not thinking at all."

Hiei bit back a snap of indignation. He was thinking, maybe more than Kurama was—in fact, almost certainly more than Kurama was, all things considered. To balance him out, Kurama needed to stop thinking entirely, but that would never do; Kurama's thoughts, distorted or completely backwards as they might have been, were keeping him relatively stable, if not properly sane. Of course, Hiei himself couldn't claim total sanity, could he? None of them could. None of them ever could, not since childhood, not since _birth_. Had they ever been sane, ever, they might not have ended up where they did, inexorably tied together in a complex and often maddening web of fates.

"Maybe you should just let yourself fall down for once."

"I have been trying for days and days to keep that from happening."

"And look where it's got you!"

The notes grew louder now, Kurama's humming nearly covered as Hiei began to predict the next few bars. Clarity of the moon, he began to reason again, almost certainly meant that something would happen at night. On a clear moonlit night, in fact; the night of a full moon. When would that be? Not for a few weeks. Miru wasn't expecting them to arrive for some time. Good, he thought maliciously, all the better to startle her and gain a quick upper hand. But details, details…the question was no longer "when?" but "_where_?"

"I need your help."

"Funny, I was just about to say the same to you."

"I don't think I'll be of any use to you."

Hiei groaned. Again, Kurama was being self-deprecating. That was _bad_. Bad, he scolded himself, and you couldn't stop it? You saw it coming, you knew it would happen eventually. Way to go, Hiei, you went wrong again. _Again_. All right, none of that; get back on your feet and take control. No one else is going to do it, that's certain.

"You would, I'm sure. Just have a little faith in yourself for once and start thinking rationally, would you?"

Kurama laughed hollowly. "I have faith in myself all the time, and look where it's got me!" he finished in a slightly mocking tone at which Hiei took no offense. "I'm sick of it all. I'm done with life. Never cheat death, all right? It only comes back to haunt you."

"I'll remember that."

"See that you do."


	13. Pretty Tear Away

Disclaimer: today is Wednesday. I feel you all have a right to know that. (Actually it's Saturday, but it was Wednesday when I began writing.)

_Fall_

_Give me a reason why you're gonna let me wait  
Some kind of punishment before you terminate  
You're taking my life for your peace of mind  
So let's go—start the show_

—_Accept, "Death Row"_

Chapter Twelve: Pretty Tear Away

Hiei watched the burning golden notes as they hovered in the air around him. Pretty things, he supposed, though perplexing. Was there any pattern? Any specific rhythm to their motions? They seemed to have no guide at all, darting about in erratic patterns, clustering randomly and breaking apart. Meanwhile, Kurama continued to hum his mindless tune.

"Does the song have any words?"

Kurama shook his head as he continued to hum. Hiei listened closely to the combination of humming and piano; they matched almost perfectly, in fact. Beginning where he saw Kurama looking, Hiei began to follow along (at least, he thought he was) and started to notice patterns.

"Hum that note again," he said once, watching the golden symbols critically as he threw Kurama off the beat. The fox obliged readily and Hiei nodded at what he saw, beginning to see some correlation between the noises. No matter what note Kurama hummed, the symbol lighting up was always within a specific, seemingly random region. They lit in different, nonconsecutive orders, also random, but they were always the same seven notes.

Seven? Hiei knew that some humans had superstitions about the number seven; it was supposedly "lucky." And this music was reeking of humanity… Could the "clear moon" be referring to something in the human realm? Kurama's new home? Perhaps an eclipse there, which Hiei would not know the date of offhand. Intentionally, had Miru done such a thing? He could not be sure, but there had to be further clues around somewhere. This elaborate setup would not exist otherwise.

He watched the pattern of the dancing notes. It was a pattern, he saw it now; complex and somewhat scattered, but also distinct. He needed to follow it for several minutes before seeing any hint of repetition, but it was undeniably there.

Replaying it in his mind to pick out some shade of a hint, he passively ignored Kurama, who was not trying to make himself noticeable, anyway. The gold sparkled in a funny way, he saw with some interest. The light was angled so that despite originating in different places, it all hit the same spot, flashed off of an invisible surface—an invisible surface, he thought, which he could certainly find. Hiei stepped forward and ran his fingers along the cold emptiness until he reached the spot his was envisioning. Tapping it, he found not the unyielding substance that had cut hid fingers, but the brittle porcelain-like one that could easily be shattered.

And shatter it he did.

Kurama did not move to stop the bleeding this time, although there certainly was a spot or two of red.

Hiei frowned as he felt around the cracked shelf for something hidden within it. His fingers brushed what felt like a piece of paper, which he promptly withdrew. It became visible after passing through some arbitrary dividing line, the words printed in clear black ink, not faded in the least. It seemed to have roused Kurama's attention somewhat, as the fox looked down at the paper and read it upside down.

At least, he tried to. The words were not Japanese, nor were they a common Makai dialect. In fact, they appeared to be backwards, if Hiei recognized them at all. He cocked his head. The words were not backwards—they were upside down! He turned the paper over, expecting it to become legible; no such luck. Backwards, perhaps, but…

Hiei huffed. Damn it all. They were backwards _and_ upside down, and in a language he was unfamiliar with. Common to the north region, he thought, meaning Raizen would have been the one to ask for translation. Unfortunately Hiei would _never_ stoop to asking Raizen for assistance, even if the old skeleton was still alive (which, of course, he was not).

"I don't suppose you've got a mirror handy," he muttered, trying to right the page. Kurama shook his head, still with a ridiculous smile on his face as he hummed that annoying song.

"Apologies," he said idly, closing his eyes as he hummed. The notes continued to light up, although their puzzle had been solved.

Frowning, Hiei sat on the ground with the paper before him and a small rock in his hand. He studied the words carefully and, with a practiced hand (practiced at what, he wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it was really helping), etched the text into the dirt exactly—in reverse.

Then, because he could and he might as well, he turned the page upside down and repeated the process.

"This language, I recognize," he informed Kurama, who was now whistling. "It's commonly used in the slums of the northeast region. This one, I recognize but can't read. Yomi once tried to give Mukuro a contract in this style, so I believe it's commonly used in the upper echelons of Gandara; I don't suppose you can read it?"

Kurama glanced down, still whistling. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, breaking the tune. "Of course I can," he said as though offended. "And you should be able to recognize it, at least."

Hiei blinked. "And that would be why?"

"Well," Kurama said kindly, "it's the contract Yomi tried to pass off to Mukuro. Completely meaningless to you or me."

_What the hell is she doing to me?_

"_Meaningless_? After all that effort, she gives us something _meaningless_?"

Kurama shrugged indifferently. "What does the other interpretation say?"

Hiei glanced down at the dirt scratches. He frowned as he read. "It's nothing. A weather report. What good could that possibly do us?"

"I'm not certain," Kurama said, kneeling beside the scratches and stopping his whistling. "It must mean something, or she wouldn't have given it to us at all. A meaningless contract between Yomi and Mukuro and an old weather report from the northeast region. Mukuro's lands. What does that mean? What do they mean together?"

Hiei furrowed his brow, reading the forecast again. "Actually, the weather report is regarding the northern region," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Raizen's territory."

"Written in intersection with the other text," Kurama said ponderously. "Practically on top of one another. Obviously the two are meant to be associated, but how?"

"Well…" Hiei breathed out sharply through his nose with a soft "chm" sound. "The song can't possibly refer to a place. The 'clear moon' must be a time—the eclipse. The new moon. These two documents together must indicate a particular place, then. This puzzle is a set of directions, but to where?"

Kurama rocked back on his heels and tapped his chin, closing his eyes. This puzzle seemed a bit ornate for Miru's tastes. Perhaps the last few years had made her cleverer as well as more diabolical. "One piece showing a potential union between Gandara and the northeast region, and one piece representing the northern region. All three are accounted for, so all three must be present."

Hiei nodded, suddenly understanding. "The intersection of the three lands," he said in a hushed tone. "These are directions to the trisection on the date of the eclipse."

"Miru must be planning to meet us there."

Hiei shifted to a kneeling position and dropped his head down to his chest, sighing deeply. This game was tiring him quickly; he wasn't sure how much more he could take. But Kurama was getting better…sort of. He had to be content with that. He had to be content with the health and satisfaction of another.

_Think of someone other than yourself._

Hiei scoffed.

_Like I've never done that before._

* * *

Yûsuke stood, rubbing his backside. Kuwabara rolled onto his stomach and awkwardly massaged his lower back. Both groaned at the aches all over their bodies.

"Why does that always happen?" Kuwabara asked rhetorically. Yûsuke shook his head.

"No idea. Physics, maybe."

" 'Physics,' he says…"

Kuwabara continued to grumble as he made his way to the indent in the grass, clearly visible to someone such as himself, who was looking for it specifically. The hole was still there and still deep; it didn't seem worth it to dive down into it, not when he could sort of sense Kurama's energy moving _away_ from the hole in two different directions. One coming, one going. The question, of course, was which was which.

"So what've we found?" Yûsuke asked, coming to crouch beside his friend. He prodded the grass, poking around the hole. "We gonna have to make the jump?"

"No, I don't think so," Kuwabara said distractedly. "We have to either go that way—" he pointed towards one of the energy signals "—or that way." He pointed towards the other. "Of course, I can't tell which.

"Why not?"

Kuwabara looked down at Yûsuke wryly. "They're exactly the same," he said dully. "Unless you can tell them apart somehow."

Frowning in contemplation, Yûsuke carefully studied the two energy trails. His glance shifted between them in a childish sort of way, almost foolish looking, but Kuwabara had long since learned not to judge such things on appearance. Yûsuke was actually quite good with his _reikan_ when he wanted to be.

"That one has hesitance in it," Yûsuke said, pointing to one of the threads. "That one is very sure of itself, not at all confused. It's probably the one leading away from the hole."

Kuwabara blinked owlishly. "Yeah. Of course. Let's go, then."

Yûsuke grinned, marching off proudly. Kuwabara shook his head, grinning as well, and followed.

* * *

"Hiei?"

The little demon turned as his name was called. How long had Kurama been trying to get his attention? He must have lost his focus…which would have been dangerous in almost any other situation. Did _one_ of them have to be out of his mind at all times? Hiei scowled. That was hardly fair.

"Hiei…"

"Mm?"

Kurama grinned in that way he did that made one wonder about his sincerity. His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and his head tilted a small bit to one side, his mouth just the right length across and curved at the exact right angle on either end.

"We have to go to the trisection."

Hiei nodded with a gruff mutter. "Of course."

Kurama laughed delicately, the sound oddly grating on Hiei's ears. "Oh, darling," the fox purred, "come along! We've not a moment to lose; our journey is almost at its end and I can see the light awaiting us in the sky, the sky above this glass city." He traced his fingers over Hiei's cheek, smiling prettily and beginning to run away. "Well, come on! We're almost there!"

"Kurama, no—"

But it was far too late; Kurama had gone off towards the mouth of the cave, angled to run to the trisection, and Hiei could no longer stop him. So, doing the only thing a good friend would do, he followed, protesting with every step.

"You've got to listen to me! This is ridiculous, we need a plan of some sort, and who's to say Miru would even be there? We know we're far earlier than she anticipated. Kurama, would you _listen_ to me?"

Again, the fox laughed lightly and did not stop, and Hiei felt himself beginning to flush, very slightly, with his impatient anger.

"Kurama, _stop_!"

"Oh my love, how could you ask such a thing of me?" Kurama cried ebulliently, reminding Hiei for all the worlds of a youthful, stupid human girl. This was definitely not the dignified spirit he had fought beside to steal the Artifacts, or kill the Holy Beasts, or win the Black Martial Arts Tournament, or defeat Sensui's team of misfits, or rise through the ranks in Makai politics, or _anything_! Hiei felt like punching something, it was so infuriating.

"Kurama!" Hiei screamed his friend's name without thinking, running after him in a blur. He stopped directly in Kurama's path, his arms out to his sides to create an effective roadblock. "Kurama," he said insistently, "you've got to wait a moment. Have you thought your actions through completely? At all? Even the slightest bit?"

Then, all at once, Kurama's free mask fell away to reveal something quite different. He had not the face of a brilliant, promising, cheerful young boy with no secret life, nor of a diligent student who always seemed to know everything although he missed weeks of classes on end, nor of a loving son who would give up his own life for a woman he had fooled because she was so kind. None of those.

He had the face of someone Hiei didn't recognize. He had the face of someone he had kept secret for years and years, someone who no one knew. Someone who no one had ever been allowed to know.

The reality that Kurama had another face, another side, another personality began to creep up on Hiei with a looming force. Perhaps enough to topple a mountain, or to drain a river. Perhaps enough to rearrange the stars, or to crush a planet. Perhaps enough to move a man. Enough to move Hiei.

"My gods…"

Kurama nearly began to cry.

* * *

"We've been walking for an hour," Yûsuke proclaimed loudly, "and we're no closer to finding them now than we were then. What say you we call it a day?"

Kuwabara turned to glare at his friend incredulously. "Are you serious?" he asked in a hollow voice. "Not only have I spent the last _three_ hours trying to find these guys, but they're our friends and one of them, if not both of them, is in serious trouble. We are not calling it a day. In fact, we are never giving up on those two. You hear me? Never."

Nodding slowly, a bit thrown off at Kuwabara's conviction, Yûsuke continued walking, now silent. Feeling like ever more the bad guy, he turned back to try and make amends.

"Hey, you know I wouldn't—"

"Just stop it."

* * *

Hiei moved towards Kurama, his fingers twitching as if to reach up and hold the fox. Tenderly, like a child. "Kurama," he said in a steady, measured tone. "What's wrong?"

Kurama looked away, then up at the sky and its dull redness. "I just…" He hesitated, then shook his head. "It's a nice day, it seems…"

"Yes, as nice as it ever gets here," Hiei said, fearful despite himself. "And for any more obvious observations on the weather, of all things, I'll be sure to come to you. But what's _wrong_?"

With a wane smile, Kurama offered a small, ironic laugh. Hiei took a step closer and made to take his hand, but did not.

"Oh, darling, I'm so tired…" Kurama sighed, still looking up at the sky. "Can't I rest a moment?"

Frowning sadly, Hiei took a deep breath and looked at Kurama as no one ever really bothered to, and he saw something no one ever really saw. He saw harsh marks of age, not as marring lines on his face but in his eyes, and in his soul. Kurama was not a young boy. Kurama was not young at all, even in his human body. Perhaps the child Shûichi ought to have been a mere twenty-something years old, but Kurama had crossbred him with a wily fox and transformed them both into an ungodly creature far beyond the boarders of humanity or demonkind. Age had made him cold and calculating, and hiding himself had made him scheming and paranoid. The blending of two souls, human and demon, had been a marvelous experiment on the grandest scale, but it was bound for failure even before it began.

This was no defined being. This was no demon, this was no human.

This was a lost little boy of his own creation.

And now he wanted to rest. He was asking permission, even, as a little boy might. He was so tired, and he was ready to give up the good fight. He had fought it long and he had fought it hard, but he was tired of it, and he was asking to stop.

But Hiei was selfish, and Hiei was selfish for Kurama. He was not ready to give up that fight just yet, and Kurama simply had to feel the same.

"Not yet," he said slowly, lovingly. Selfishly. "Not quite yet. Just a little longer, Kurama. Hold on."

* * *

Yûsuke looked at Kuwabara critically, seeing parts of his friend he supposed he had always known were present but taken for granted, never analyzed or acknowledged. Kuwabara was a great friend. He was undyingly loyal without question, and without even mentioning it. They all took it for granted, in fact, because that was as he intended things to be. Kuwabara knew he would never betray someone who had put trust in him and he did not even need to say it. He radiated dependability with no effort.

At the moment, he was fiercely devoted to Kurama and Hiei, as might be expected considering the situation. Yûsuke was devoted to them and to finding them as well, he knew, but somehow he felt that if anyone deserved to be accredited with success on this pseudo-mission (should they succeed at all), it was Kuwabara. That Yûsuke had even mentioned giving up robbed him of any possible praise of triumph. Yet if he was praised, or if he was given credit for leading the trek, would he turn it over to his companion? Would he actually say, even given all his thoughts and theories and self-assurances, that he had not been the one to persevere under pressure? That he had been ready to give up, even temporarily?

Even as he wondered such a thing, he knew that any answer he invented would be unreliable. If he said "Yes," he might be giving himself too much credit as a good person. If he said "No," he might not be giving enough. The sad truth was that, until he was in such a situation and reacting on his gut instinct, he would not be able to know. He might never know, if such a situation did not arise. For all he knew, his answer at the moment might change due to some life-altering experience in the next day or two. He felt like frowning at the pessimism he suddenly felt, but found himself smiling instead as if in silent apology.

"All right," Yûsuke said firmly, his renewed determination obvious, if not its cause. "Let's go. Why don't you lead the way?"

Kuwabara nodded with the smallest hint of suspicion, though it vanished with his unwavering faith in his best friend. "Yeah."

* * *

Legendary spirit foxes gain tails with age. Kurama has only a few (I think about five), but the reference here isn't literal. It's about how he appears to feel. 


	14. Sorry for the World

Disclaimer: isn't it fantastic how the U.S. hates to sell foreign music? I feel so cultured.

_Fall_

_Hello old friend  
What have you been doing between now and then?  
Can't say I'm happy about you coming 'round here again  
Telling tales of heroes, foes and friends_

—_Off the Road Band, "Hello Old Friend"_

Chapter Thirteen: Sorry for the World

Kurama smiled then, his mask firmly back in place. His "Hiei" mask, Hiei recognized now. It was determined, slightly tender, with bare traces of emotion that needed to be sought but were worth it once found. Though he had taken great comfort in it before, because it shone of Kurama's demonic origins and his lingering connection to the past, Hiei now found it terrifying. It was hideous, and he needed it to go away.

But there was no way to do that without killing Kurama, something Hiei was absolutely not willing to do.

"All right," Kurama said softly, his smile never wavering. "All right."

Hiei took his hand then, and they walked towards the trisection, Hiei slightly in the lead.

Kurama's footfalls were silent.

* * *

Yûsuke and Kuwabara walked several miles, Kuwabara in the lead, as they followed the energy trails of their two friends. The unsettled sense in the atmosphere was obviously uncomfortable, but both boys attributed it to the discomfited energy they were tracking. Yûsuke, however, was beginning to notice something that didn't quite match up.

"Kuwabara," he said, nudging his friend. "You okay? I mean, is that disturbance in the air from Kurama's energy or from yours?"

Kuwabara looked over at his friend, obviously surprised and slightly irritated. "How could you ask me such a thing?" he asked coldly, turning back to look at the path ahead of them. Yûsuke shrugged, now certain that something was going on.

"Dunno. It just seems that you're not yourself right now and I wish you'd tell me what's bothering you."

"Eh—" Kuwabara stopped walking for a mere moment before picking up his pace, moving at almost a jog. "Nothing's wrong with me, I'm just worried."

Yûsuke smacked his friend's shoulder. "That's shit, and you know it. Tell me what's going on up there," he said, tapping Kuwabara's forehead. The taller boy looked somewhat put out but relented at once, slowing to a crawl as he collected his thoughts.

"Okay, okay, fine. Yeah. I mean, I am worried, of course, but also I'm thinking about the last few years we've been—I don't want to say 'together,' maybe the last few years we've been _alive_. All of us, I mean. The last few years we've been around here."

Kuwabara paused, staring off into space, and Yûsuke cocked his head. Kuwabara had sure been having some deep thoughts as of late. Not wanting to interrupt the creative process, Yûsuke said nothing. His friend continued quickly enough, anyway.

"We've not really been in contact with Hiei or Kurama for what, three? Four? Five years now? And then all of a sudden, we're thrown into this huge war zone because you _happened_ to pay him a visit and Hiei _happened_ to be there, and it just so _happened_ that Kurama was about to go off to find the girl who's been ruining his life and kill her, finally, once and for all, and so Koenma decided that you and I really ought to follow them? I mean, what interest do we have in the success of this mission? Kurama has become just another victim, hasn't he, just another guy who needs saving."

Yûsuke frowned. He had never thought of the situation that way before; Kurama had been their friend for so long, it was simply natural that they would stick around and help him. But how much help were they doing? Clearly, Hiei and Kurama didn't want to be found and hadn't gone seeking out Yûsuke's or Kuwabara's help, so they probably didn't think they needed it. What if they did find them? What would happen then? Kuwabara and Yûsuke were probably the last people on Hiei's or Kurama's minds. No, Hiei was likely preoccupied with Kurama, and Kurama had to be thinking about Miru almost constantly.

"So what," Yûsuke said skeptically, although he was not entirely sure his next thought was so ridiculous as he made it sound, "you think we should just give up? Go home? 'Yeah, sorry, boys, but we're too busy to be bothered with a couple of ex-criminals now that we're not friends anymore'? Is that what we should do?"

"I don't know," Kuwabara replied shortly, sounding insecure. "Maybe. Maybe I want to. I'm not sure I'm throwing myself into this mission, I'm not sure I'm giving it my all. I don't know if I really have all that much interest vested in it. I did, of course I did, the first time, but now I can't be too sure."

Yûsuke frowned as something dawned on him. "But what happened to Kuwabara, friend to the end?" he asked. "What happened to your moral code, your fighting ethics? Your 'friends first' policies? You'd never give up on a friend, I know you wouldn't. So why give up on Hiei and Kurama?"

"I don't even know… Something about all this makes me want to, you know?"

Yûsuke frowned. "Can't say I do," he said, cutting Kuwabara off. "I'm beginning to regret bringing this up at all."

Kuwabara shook his head, his eyes closed.

"We should really be paying attention to this path."

Yûsuke nodded.

"Probably."

* * *

Hiei did not turn back to look at Kurama as they walked, but made sure to think of him always. His expression was different, not the "Hiei" mask (which, Hiei realized, was more of a "For Hiei" mask, and he hated himself for it), but all in Hiei's mind, it didn't matter. Kurama could be kind or gentle or fierce or crazy and no one would ever know. Hiei found that he was imagining none of these, to his surprise; he saw only a genuine friend, walking down the street and sensing his presence, turning to smile and wave. The mask he wore was not for Hiei, nor was it really a mask; it was years ago, when Kurama was only seventeen, but it was genuine and it was real and it made Hiei want to smile, as well. Back then, before the start of things, Kurama had been happy and satisfied with his life. The blissful time between the end of the Makai tournament and Miru's first message and appearance.

It would never return, of course, nor would anything like it. Kurama would never be quite the same and Hiei, try as he might, would never be able to forget these missions on which he had fought so hard and changed so much. His accidental but not regretted admission of love, for instance, was one of the side effects which he would never forget, even if nothing came of it. It would also have to be dealt with after Miru's death (she would be killed, he was positive), he thought with some dread.

"I love you, too, you know."

The words were so random and unexpected that Hiei actually stopped short, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly. He still did not turn around, but Kurama kept walking as if nothing was changed and drew ahead of Hiei.

Hiei thought to say "What did you say?" or even "You do?" as if disbelieving, or happily awed, but his mouth and his brain tended to disconnect at especially unusual moments.

He gaped for a moment before uttering a single word:

"Oh."

He could have punched himself.

Kurama's step did not falter, exactly, but to Hiei's eye, trained in the ways of speed, he did slow for a mere moment before continuing on, expecting Hiei to follow. Expecting rightly, at that; Hiei followed quickly, reminding himself of an eager puppy as he scampered after his partner.

"Kurama, I didn't mean to sound crass or short with you. I was surprised."

Kurama nodded, his idle smile in place and his eyes only darting sideways to glance at Hiei briefly. The fire demon sighed tiredly.

"Kurama, I'm _sorry_."

"For loving me?"

"What? No, of course not!"

Hiei was completely flabbergasted at the last accusation, his eyes widening once more and his hands shoved into his pockets to keep them from wringing. Kurama was looking ahead again, distracted from the present by the potential of the future. He sighed a happy little sigh, smiling just a bit. Hiei frowned.

"Then why?" Kurama asked dreamily.

Hiei raised his eyebrow in disbelief. "For sounding so unappreciative at your…admission."

Kurama smiled softly. "I'm not too worried," he said. "I'm sorry if you were concerned."

"Why?" Hiei cut in. Kurama looked at him curiously. "Why are you sorry?" he clarified. Kurama smiled again.

"I didn't mean to cause your concern," he said, his voice still oddly distant.

Hiei shook his head. "You don't need to apologize," he said somewhat crisply. "Not for my being concerned, anyway. That's what you did, you know—you apologized for my concern, not for causing it."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop _doing_ that!"

* * *

Things were not going well at _all_.

At Kuwabara's words, Yûsuke had begun to think of his devotion to the current mission and was coming up stunningly blank. It wasn't that he didn't want to save Kurama and Hiei, exactly. Only that they had grown apart, and he hadn't had a mission in years, and he was getting _settled_ in the human realm. He had a noodle shop, and he was _married_! He had a life on Earth the likes of which he could never have among demons. Shedding his past—his distant, distant path, more like the path of his ancestors which had become his own life—had been incredibly hard, and he still needed to fight some of the time. He needed to go amongst the demons briefly, only occasionally, until his blood settled again. It was in his very soul and there was no denying that. But he had _done_ it, and it was finished, and he needed to move on.

Didn't he?

In fact, what good would it do to put Kurama and Hiei into that block of time he called history and never touch it again? He revisited his other life every time he needed to drop by the demons' realm and spar with a few. He never saw Hiei; Yûsuke made sure to steer clear of the northeast sector and he guessed that Hiei made sure to steer clear of Yûsuke's obvious and recognizable power when it was near. He never saw Kurama; though the two did not live terribly far from one another, they never had reason to be in contact. Yûsuke did not attend a college or university and Kurama did not make a point to eat at Yûsuke and Keiko's noodle shop.

But still, he _could_ have made an effort to keep in touch. Kurama and Hiei clearly had, with one another. Come to think of it, Kurama had really had little reason to keep in touch with Yûsuke or Kuwabara. They did not assist him in any way, nor did they have the means to. Foxes were known for being fickle with friends outside the family, and it was not surprising that even as a part human, Kurama had retained the fox instinct to drop companions who had outlived their usefulness. Yûsuke found himself becoming bitter at the very thought.

"What're we going to do when we find them?" Yûsuke asked suddenly. This bitterness would be nothing but detrimental to the mission, and Koenma would have his hide if they returned with the news that they had found Kurama and Hiei, only to let them get away untouched.

" 'When'?" Kuwabara asked cynically. "You don't mean 'if'?"

Yûsuke frowned. "I think we'll find them. Something's telling me we will, even if we don't want to."

Kuwabara grunted something which may have been a "yeah." The boys walked silently, immersed in his own thoughts for a bit. Suddenly Yûsuke waved his hand above his sharply nodding head.

"I've got it," he said. Kuwabara looked at him curiously.

" 'It'?"

"Yeah, sure. We'll find Kurama and Hiei and the first thing we'll want to do will be to help them. Hey, we're detectives, right? I mean, you're a detective because you want to help people. I want to help people because I'm a detective. It all works out."

Kuwabara shook his head. "I dunno. Usually, we meet people for the first time on our cases, so we haven't got any personal involvement. These guys were our _teammates_, our _friends_. We were all close, you know? We knew each other, really. And, I don't know—well, maybe I do. I think it's that we all just sort of drifted apart from our team of four into our groups of two. No big argument or falling out, just kind of…nothing. We stopped talking, and that's all. Since there was nothing to end our friendship, it doesn't seem like there'd be anything to stop it from picking up again."

"Except us," Yûsuke finished, nodding with a steady comprehension. "We're standing between us and them, aren't we? I don't know why, but we are. I don't know how to stop doing it. I don't even know what 'it' is."

"Me neither, but we've got to stop it if we want to have any hope of helping out once we find them."

"Yeah."

Their trail continued without words for awhile when Kuwabara looked up and smirked halfheartedly.

"Do you see what I see?"

* * *

Kurama looked at Hiei with genuine curiosity, his head slightly cocked and his eyebrows slightly furrowed. Hiei looked away at once.

"Stop doing what?" Kurama asked gently.

Hiei frowned, biting his lip. "Stop _apologizing_. Stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault. My concern, my confusion, Miru following us, Miru driving me crazy, _all_ of it. Just…please just stop."

Kurama smiled, shaking his head. "I'd like to, really. I've tried."

"But why can't you?"

"I…don't know. I suppose it's just that someone ought to, and why not me?"

"Someone ought to what?" Hiei asked desperately, reaching out as if to take Kurama's hand.

"Someone ought to apologize, even if it's not his fault."

"But apologize for _what_?" Hiei whimpered, aware of all his fury and frustration coming out in one mildly inappropriate moment.

Kurama completed Hiei's beginning and took the smaller man's hand, pulling him closer and hugging him tightly. He leaned down slightly to whisper in Hiei's ear, a soft and pleading prayer for some escape from reality contained within a single word:

"_Everything_."

Hiei's eyes went wide and unseeing as his face was pressed closer to Kurama's chest and he finally reached his arms around to hug back, pulled even closer so that there was no space at all between them. Somehow, out of the corner of his senses, he felt some unwanted and unwelcome presence, but he could not quite place it. Not until it made itself known.

"What a touching scene to wander in on."

Immediately, Kurama's hold became fiercely protective, his aura territorial. Hiei recognized that voice. It made his blood boil and his skin crawl.

How could he forget?

"Miru."

A light, tinkling laughter, that same laughter from years before, echoed through the air and pierced his mind sharply in neat rows of pinpricks. He cringed as he felt Kurama tense.

"So glad our introductions will be unnecessary," she said playfully. Hiei turned his head slightly so that he could barely see her dancing down from her place a hundred or so meters above them, held in midair on an invisible cloud. She laughed all the way down, grinning like a child. Child, he thought bitterly. That was what she was. Nothing more than a selfish child.

"Have you changed at all?" Kurama asked scathingly. "I think not. Unless," and here his tone became almost taunting, "you've learned any new tricks? Hm?"

Miru laughed again, but this time was not at all tinkling. A harsh, cold sound Hiei had never heard from her before spun around them in a blurry wave, somehow visible; was she wasting her magic on theatrics? Then no matter how much she had changed, or claimed to, it could not be much. She was the same vain, overconfident brat.

"It's none of your concern," she said coyly, walking around them in some cross between a predator's pace and a fan girl's dance. "Shall we say I haven't been spending the last few years simply lazing about, awaiting your next attack?"

"From the looks of things, that's all you've been doing," Kurama returned. Hiei kept himself pressed close to his friend, although he doubted he would have been able to pull away even if he had wanted to. Kurama seemed to have all but forgotten him, latching onto his hug as if holding onto a cliff to keep from falling.

Miru scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. "You wish," she bit out snottily. "I've been spending my time wisely enough, thank you. I'll have you know I'm a lot stronger than I used to be."

"So you _have_ been practicing," Kurama surmised to Miru's catty sneer. She tilted her head side to side, still glaring. Even with his limited view of her, Hiei could tell she was getting annoyed quickly.

"I've learned lots of new things!" she said arrogantly, and Hiei recognized a weakness at once. She was a braggart still, as much as she ever had been. Kurama merely needed to bait her and she would divulge absolutely anything. That would be useful, assuming she didn't catch on and shut herself up. So this would be a delicate battle, but not terribly difficult.

Not so long as—

"I see you've got yourself a little prize there," Miru said suddenly, her smile audible. Hiei nearly cursed aloud, but restrained himself; what was she going on about? Hopefully not what he feared. Kurama had tensed further, his grip around Hiei nearly painful.

"What prize?" he snarled lowly. She giggled, again light and gleeful.

"Why," she said as if old and wise and speaking to a child, "your little demon there. The dark fire. He is yours?"

"He is no one's," Kurama replied too quickly in that same harsh tone. She laughed again, more softly.

"Your love is obvious," she said slyly, "but does he feel the same?"

Hiei closed his eyes and buried his face in Kurama's shirt. _Don't give it away_, he begged silently. _Don't give that to her. Please._

"It is no concern of mine," Kurama said with a cold fury. Hiei tightened his hold around Kurama's middle, glad that he had kept his sense about him. Sort of, anyway; that was the best response Hiei could have hoped for. Miru did not seem too pleased with it.

But Kurama _was_ assured of Hiei's love, wasn't he? There was no _actual_ question about it, was there? There couldn't be; Hiei had been the one to confess, not the other way around as had been every other time. Every other time that counted, anyway. Miru couldn't use that to her advantage, she simply couldn't. Hiei would give his life for Kurama's to prove his love if need be, but Miru would not be allowed to break them. He had resolved not to let her do so when she was not present, and her physical form only intensified his hatred of her and his devotion to her defeat.

Such trifles as love could be sorted out after the battle ahead.

Let the games come to an end.

Ready?

Set?

"Go."


	15. Angels Fear to Tread

Disclaimer: it's never too late to be afraid of the dark.

_Fall_

_scrambled phantom (i wish we'd all just stop talking at once).  
spitting and cursing from the scrap heap we're on.  
you should have lost your cool._

—_Everytime I Die, "Emergency Broadcast Syndrome"_

Chapter Fourteen: Angels Fear to Tread

Miru smiled a toothy, disbelieving smile. " '_Go_'?" she said derisively. "Surely you can't mean for me to _leave_. Why, that is not your place, you lovesick little spitfire!"

Hiei turned his head to glare at Miru, his eyes mere slits in his face. "You call _me_ lovesick, do you?" he jeered. He was about to grasp at a short straw and he knew it, but a distraction would be good for Kurama and bad for Miru, so he had to try. "You are the one who is obsessed with love, you foolish girl. Or did you think no one would notice your desperate crush?"

For a moment, Miru faltered, blinking rapidly and missing a step in her flouncing. Hiei had a flash of wonder, deciding at once to continue with his little gamble. "You cannot hide your emotions well at all," he said confidently. "Your infatuation will be _your_ downfall, not mine."

Miru smiled wryly, folding her arms and stalking right up to Hiei. Bypassing Kurama completely, she stuck her face in Hiei's and grinned maniacally. "You've no proof."

Hiei grinned right back. _She_ had all but proved his wild guess, which more than pleased him but was also confusing. She was in love, but with who? And why would it matter to him?

Hiei looked at her critically for a moment. His eyes went the slightest bit wider.

_Oh my God._

* * *

Yûsuke trotted up beside Kuwabara and looked out over the land below them; the taller man had stopped right at the edge of a cliff, giving them the perfect view of the scenery. Specifically, three small figures on the scenery below them; three familiar figures that looked sort of like…

"That's them, isn't it?"

Kuwabara nodded with a wry grin on his face. "It is."

Yûsuke peered over the ledge. "Do we have to go down there?"

"That's our dilemma, isn't it?" Kuwabara said, sitting on the ledge with his legs dangling over the cliff. "If we're treating this like just another case, I guess we should."

"And if we're not?" Yûsuke asked, looking hard at the one he assumed to be Kurama. No fighting seemed to be going on, nor did any fighting seem to have gone on already. He couldn't help but wonder if their assistance was even necessary; Miru appeared to be talking to them, which was a good sign. So he assumed, anyway; from what Hiei had mentioned years ago, it seemed that Miru was not the type to spend her time with idle chatter. If she was talking instead of fighting, she was either being cocky and snobbish, or she had been scared by something one of them had said. and was trying to calm herself Yûsuke hoped it was the latter.

Kuwabara shrugged. "If we're not, then it'll take a little more thought, I guess. There are definitely more variables to consider."

Making a soft "hm" sound, Yûsuke knelt down and lay on his stomach, watching the action below as if it was a silent movie. "Like the fact that we're friends, yeah?"

" 'Are'?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Maybe there's more to consider than I thought…"

* * *

Hiei laughed incredulously, moving away from Kurama but not quite out of his reach. Kurama glanced between them briefly, his understanding or lack thereof impossible to tell.

"You've boxed yourself into a corner!" Hiei said with the sort of understanding which comes only when one has gained invaluable knowledge to be used for his own benefit. "You've let slip a secret you can't take back, and I know exactly who should hear it."

"No," Miru said suddenly, blinking and grinning. Hiei raised his eyebrow. "You don't," she continued, undeterred. "_You_ don't know _anything_."

"I know that you obviously don't want this secret to get out into the public," he said, smiling devilishly. "I know that having even one person privy to your private thoughts is a serious liability for you."

Miru sneered, shoving her face into his again. "You don't know the half of it," she growled. "You? Ha. You have _no idea_."

Hiei growled right back, snapping his teeth like a dog. "I know more than you think," he said, his tone quiet and threatening. "Where you are? I've been there a lot longer. I _know_ what it's like."

"You couldn't possibly."

"And why not?"

Miru smiled frighteningly, pacing around the pair as a predator would. "You just gave yourself away, dumbass."

Hiei's frown turned furious and his eyes blazed brightly, his rage obvious to the blindest man. "How dare you disrespect me so?" he hissed. "I gave away nothing."

Miru only widened her smirk and reached toward them, drawing Kurama away with a grand flourish and earning a fanged snarl from the fox himself. "Got him now, what'll you do?" she mocked, turning Kurama in a circle despite his attempts to twist away from her. Hiei folded his arms and titled his stance away from them, seemingly uncaring as a small flicker inside of him began to writhe with concern for Kurama. He shushed it forcefully and turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

"If you would fight like an honorable warrior, perhaps we could begin to fight like normal demons. What do you say to that?" Hiei snapped irately, rolling his eyes.

"Ah," Miru said, turning her attention now to Kurama, "it seems he does not love you as you do him! What will that do for you now, hm?"

Kurama did an expert job covering for himself as pain flashed across his face and was quickly replaced with apathy. "It will do nothing for me, nor will it do anything _to_ me," he said coldly. "I expected nothing from him and I have received as much."

Hiei felt a nip at his conscience at those words, even though he knew they were a show. He had done all he could for Kurama in these last few days; he had been steadfast in the face of his partner's insanity, understanding in the face of Kurama's attempted suicide (…sort of), defiantly standing by him even when it might reveal his feelings—_admitting_ his feelings, albeit it less romantically than anyone would probably like to hear such a thing. Considering the circumstances, Hiei did not think Kurama could have asked for much more.

But had Kurama really expected "nothing" from him? Had he even thought that someday, Hiei _might_ confess his own love? Maybe? It would be uncharacteristic, especially considering the amount of time Hiei had been away and the typical length of his absences—months, years, no notice, no contact, no word of anything. But Hiei had always been one to surprise…hadn't he?

Damn it! Damn it all, in fact. Hiei would sort out his own shortcomings and uncertainties when the battle was done. For the moment, it could not matter if Miru knew that Kurama's love was reciprocated. Hiei's act had to be throwing her into uncertainty, even if she did suspect it so. Once the battle had begun, she might stop thinking about it altogether.

" 'Nothing'?" Miru said gleefully. "Ah, trouble in paradise, eh? Well. I'm not one to meddle in the affairs of romantics, but darling, if you ever need a substitution, you know I'll be watching you."

Kurama snarled again. "I've seen what you do to those you profess your love to," he bit out, "and I've no interest in becoming one of _them_."

"No," she said wisely, walking around him and wrapping with her a ribbon, conjured from the air and a soft hum. "I suppose you wouldn't."

Tied nearly four times round, Kurama lashed out quickly and broke the ribbon, tearing it in three places at once. "Still you play your little girl games?" he asked derisively. "Still you think you can distract me with these simple playthings? You are a fool."

"Ah, but fools rush in," she returned with a smirk. "You rushed to find me, indeed you did, not the other way around. And I seem to recall, several years back, a dark sort of tournament in which one of your team was defeated by—what was it now—a boy and his yo-yos? A child's plaything, no doubt, yet powerful in its own right."

"Don't bring ancient history into the present battle," Kurama snapped. "Will you fight me honorably for once, or will you use your giant creatures again to gain an advantage which I will overturn?"

Hiei frowned, remembering their last battle. This might be dangerous; neither was using especially biting words, but Kurama was obviously getting tense and impatient and Miru seemed to be enjoying herself far too much. Could he somehow convey to Kurama the knowledge he had stumbled upon? What good would it do? It seemed difficult; with any lesser ally, he could probably have used telepathy, but Kurama's mind was far too old and complex for him to even hope to delve into. He knew; he had tried. So assuming that the knowledge would even be helpful, it would take some creativity to get it to him. More trouble than it was worth, perhaps; the advantage might be negligible, and it might even backfire. Too many risks involved. Hiei shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Will you dispense of this witless banter any time soon," Hiei snapped suddenly, "or will you continue trying to talk one another into submission?"

Miru's eyes narrowed and she glared at Hiei. Then, with a barely visible snap, she lashed out and struck him, sending him tripping a step backwards.

"Don't involve yourself, you _freak_."

Hiei's eyes glowed red.

* * *

"We _are_ friends with them," Yûsuke said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Even if we haven't spoken in a few years, we're still friends. I mean, I left Keiko for what, three years? And now we're _married_."

Kuwabara shrugged. "That's different. You guys are in love, you're not just friendly."

"Yeah, and we weren't 'just friendly' with them, were we?" Yûsuke challenged. "We almost died for one another. I _did_ die for you guys."

"And everyone."

"Whatever."

Kuwabara leaned forward to peer at the action below, tilting his head back and forth. "They're not fighting," he observed. "Is that a good sign or a bad one, do you think?"

Yûsuke flopped down on the ground, his chin hitting the dirt. "Dunno. Depends what they're talking about, I guess."

"…well?"

"Well, what?"

Kuwabara rolled his eyes. "What're they talking about?"

"What?" Yûsuke sat up and crossed his legs, his mouth slightly agape. "How should I know?"

"Don't you have that super demon hearing now?" Kuwabara asked skeptically. "I know you've eavesdropped on me more than once since you were all 'reborn.' "

Yûsuke smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck and blushing. "Ah-hah, maybe a little. I don't know, I'll try."

And leaning over the side of the ledge, Yûsuke focused all his energy on listening in on a private conversation.

* * *

Drawing himself up as tall as he could manage, Hiei paced over to the pair with his fangs bared and his eyes ablaze. Kurama barely cringed, and Miru drew herself up as well, putting her just above the top of Hiei's head.

"I have been called a freak," Hiei said quietly, mere centimeters from Miru herself, "for my entire life, by creatures much more worthwhile than _you_. By no whore, by no coward, by no idiot have I been called less than a worthy opponent. _You_, however, have combined the three and called me a _freak_. You, who are no less than a mistake of nature, have called me a freak. I hope the irony is not lost on your simple mind. Let it be said that the only reason I have not torn you limb from limb is that I am leaving that honor to my esteemed colleague, who I feel deserves the pleasure far more than I. And now," he said ponderously, "shall I reveal the secret of your love? Or is that a bit better found out by accident?"

Miru smiled smugly. "I have nothing to fear, for you do not _know_ my secret."

There was no reason to trust Miru; Hiei might very well know her secret, and he thought he did. But would he bet Kurama's life on it? Maybe not.

Then, for no apparent reason, Miru was thrown headfirst at the ground. She may as well have tripped over nothing, without even moving her feet. Hiei blinked owlishly and noticed then that Kurama's fingers were twitching anxiously, as if he had just struck something—something like Miru. The devious fox had been unable to restrain himself any longer and begun the fight, an act most unlike him in his normal state. Hiei closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his forehead.

Miru pushed herself up on her hands and knees, shaking her head to clear dirt from her eyes. She raised her head slightly so that only her eyes were visible, glaring at Kurama.

"Awfully dastardly of you," she commented icily. "I didn't think such a noble fighter as you had it in him to pull that sort of underhanded move."

Kurama raised his eyebrow cockily. "You learn something new," he replied, his tone equally cold. Hiei wisely backed away from the pair. Suddenly, he sensed a peculiar yet somehow familiar energy some distance above him. Discretely glancing up at the cliffs, he saw what looked like a sneaker being yanked back over the ledge. Who did he know who wore sneakers and would be spying on them? he wondered wryly. Yûsuke and Kuwabara had come around, damn stalkers. Should he confront them? He could, but it wasn't necessary, and he would rather not. Contenting himself with a glare he was sure would go unseen, he turned his attention back to the more pressing action before him.

"Now that the gauntlet has been thrown, we shall begin formally," Miru was saying. "Come now, surely you do not object to a traditional, formal fight?"

"I do not recall raising an objection, no," Kurama said quietly.

"Then we shall begin," Miru said, slyly for some reason. Hiei bristled, instantly suspicious. Kurama either did not care, or cared but did not show it. It was impossible that he would not have noticed.

"Hiei," Kurama said sharply, and Hiei wondered for a moment what he had done wrong.

"Kurama," he said sharply, almost but not quite a warning to back down.

"Preside over this formality," Kurama said. "You know the rules?"

Hiei blinked. He had watched such "formalities," but never presided over one himself. He knew that they were often bloody and definitely less than formal, but little else. Did they even _have_ rules?

"Rules?" he said skeptically. Kurama looked at him kindly, but pityingly, and he bit back a snap.

"Of course," Kurama said, no trace of kindness in his voice. "The old formal—there is to be no backstabbing in this match, and a fighter touching all parts of his body to the ground for more than ten seconds is to be declared the loser."

Hiei nodded once. "Of course," he said. It was to be conducted as a fight in the Black Martial Arts Tournament was, but without a ring. That would not be too hard.

"Shall we begin?" Miru asked impatiently. Hiei glared at her and took his place between then, holding his arms out to be sure that they were equal distances away from him.

"Ready?" Hiei asked as a matter of courtesy. Both fighters nodded, taking their stances and preparing for the bloodshed. Hiei raised his arm and snapped his fingers twice, as he had seen other moderators do when he was a child spectator.

"Go!"

Kurama and Miru were off like shots, Kurama jumping backwards and Miru lunging forwards. Kurama was faster and had anticipated her charge, so he had the upper hand and had not been struck, but Hiei was still tense at the battle. He quickly made his way to higher ground and perched on a sub level of the cliffs about halfway to the top; he could clearly see Kurama and Miru, now clearly sense Yûsuke and Kuwabara, and there was little danger of his getting hit. Kurama and Miru would probably not come back this way, or at least, they would have no reason to begin fighting on the cliff wall. It was in poor condition to sustain weight; Hiei was balanced precariously and relying mostly on his lightness and small size to keep him from falling.

The two were blurs across the landscape, Kurama mostly dodging, as was his way, and Miru mostly launching violent attacks despite her overall physical weakness. Then for some reason, she landed on the ground and took a proud stance, obviously daring Kurama not to attack her.

"I call the power Choir!" she shouted proudly. Kurama landed as well, a few meters away from Miru, and took on a similar but slightly more firmly set stance.

"I call the power Earth!" he shouted back, his tone biting. Halfway through his cry, Miru had leapt towards him, her hands around her own throat. Kurama reached into his hair and withdrew a rose, summoning his rose whip before she had reached him but not trying to attack her. Miru sang a short note and the ground beneath Kurama cracked and began to split; thrown off balance, Kurama nearly fell, but took a few jumping steps backwards and regained his footing.

Then Kurama did something unexpected: snapping his wrist, he wrapped his whip around Miru's chest, binding her arms to her sides. The move was not terribly effective, as it did not cut off her voice in any way, but it clearly demonstrated that he wanted the battle to stop for a moment and for some reason, Miru respected his wishes.

"I hear rumors that you are infatuated with someone," Kurama said with the smallest hint of a tease in his voice. Hiei cocked his head as he heard his partner's words, wondering what about this could be worth interrupting the fight.

"Rumors?" Miru said with a laugh. "You were there, fox. You heard all that I did. Any of your 'rumors' are merely your own speculations."

Kurama shook his head knowingly. "There was enough assurance from you. Care to fill in the gaps in this little tale?"

"I do not," she said indignantly. "Take a guess, if you're so curious to know."

Hiei frowned. It had to be Kurama; didn't it? Who else could she possibly be so obsessed with? There was no question at all, so why was she making him guess? Unless, of course—

They stared one another down, and Hiei continued to ponder. He had the sinking sensation that things were about to get complicated on a whole different level.

Damn it all.

Love really was dangerous.


	16. Here My Love

Disclaimer: the problem with being an artist is that it's so difficult to make it in the world of artistry.

Brief Note: This is a loaded chapter, my friends. Loaded with…_PCP._ In the form of…_explanations_. For, like, everything Miru has done up to this point. She is one sick puppy.

_Fall_

_Fit to befall the false memory  
Facts begin to stall  
Permitting the bleak existence, this is our time to discover_

—_Flaw, "Turn the Tables"_

Chapter Fifteen: Here My Love

Kuwabara watched Yûsuke closely, seeing his friend's expression change dramatically.

"What're they saying?" he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper. Yûsuke looked at him with dread in his eyes.

"Let's say that I think in this circumstance, fighting is definitely better than talking."

Kuwabara felt the blood drain from his face.

Below, the action continued.

* * *

"I think," Kurama said slyly, "that you are obsessed with me."

Miru laughed scornfully, bearing her teeth. "Arrogant little twerp, aren't you?" she mocked, making a small effort to squirm free of his whip. Hiei thought feverishly with this new information; Miru was being difficult, that much was sure, but now things depended on her definition of "love." Probably warped, he thought, like everything else about her.

"Ah, it is the way of the fox to be vain, but I _am_ right, aren't I?" Kurama tugged on the whip to tighten his hold. Miru bit her lip as the thorns pricked her skin.

"You think I still have any emotion for you?" she snarled, her eyes watering from the pain. This child was used to living in luxury, Hiei noted disdainfully. She had no right talking to Kurama about anything at all. Kurama himself did not seem to care, looking down at her with a maniacal glint in his eyes.

"I think you are _obsessed_ with me," he said again. "I do not think you are in _love_ with me."

Miru looked up at him, clearly perplexed. Hiei raised an eyebrow as well, but from his placement far above them, he went unseen.

"Oho," Kurama said knowingly, "and I'm right, I see."

"How can you be right?" Miru said sharply. "I don't even know what you mean!"

With a flick of his wrist, Kurama dislodged the whip from its bind around Miru, setting her free. Rivulets of blood leaked down her arms, but even as Miru pressed down on her triceps to stop the bleeding, Kurama paid them no heed. He coiled his whip nonchalantly and dropped it around his shoulder like some sort of handbag. Hiei almost cringed at his level of uncaring; this was unlike the Kurama who Hiei had always known.

"Do you know how obsession is defined?" Kurama asked, walking over to her with some variation of an amble crossed with a strut. He made a soft laughing sound and closed his eyes. "Of course you don't. You don't read _dictionaries_ in your spare time. No, but I will tell you: 'a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling.' Does that sound like something you would do?" Kurama smiled and made that laughing noise again. "Does it, Miru?"

Miru screwed up her face into something completely confused, drawing back the slightest bit as she took a step backwards and nearly slipped. Hiei smirked; she was uncoordinated. Either that was characteristic of her and it was a good thing, or she was being thrown off her game and it was a good thing, but potentially fleeting.

Miru drew in a breath and let it out slowly, gathering her thoughts. "I am not _obsessed_ with you."

"But don't you see?" Kurama asked, making up for her retreat by stepping forward so that he was right in her face. "You _are_. You must be preoccupied with me; look at the traps you've set, the trails you've laid, the games you've played! You are unreasonable in your playtime because of one thing and one thing only: _you have no chance_. You will never win; I will defeat you, and even if you should somehow manage to kill me, someone will defeat you _for_ me."

Miru gritted her teeth and sneered, shoving her face into his in a challenge. "We are to be fighting right now," she growled. "You have abandoned the game in favor of your _words_?"

Kurama grinned again and backed away, looking up dreamily at the bloody sky. "Merely sorting through details, darling. Don't be too concerned. Please."

Hiei nodded slightly, approving of Kurama's tactic. He was surprised at the sudden change in mentality; it seemed that being faced with Miru and the prospect of defeating her once and for all had an effect more drastic than anything Hiei could have done. Well, he mused, whatever worked.

And although he knew it was merely for sport, Hiei was a little annoyed that Kurama had called Miru "darling." Certainly, Hiei and Kurama were not a "couple," and Hiei had no claim to the wild fox, but still.

Of all things.

"Darling."

* * *

"Now Kurama's talking," Kuwabara observed, watching the players change their positions as the fighting stopped. He took a steadying breath before his next question. "What're they saying?" 

Yûsuke looked over, his eyes slightly unfocused as he listened to the conversation below. "Kurama says Miru's obsessed with him."

Kuwabara frowned. "Nothing new there."

"Miru says she's not," Yûsuke continued. "But Kurama says that she's preoccupied with him and she's unreasonable because she can never win. If she kills him, someone will rise up to kill her for him."

"Oh, man," Kuwabara said nervously, peeking over the edge again and drawing back. "Does he think she'll kill him?"

Yûsuke shook his head. "He doesn't, but he's sure she's gonna die."

"Well, that's good."

"I guess."

Kuwabara took another deep breath. This was getting a little nerve-wracking for him, and sitting on the sidelines wasn't helping.

* * *

"Who said I was concerned?" Miru snapped. "I am not _concerned_." And she trilled a high-pitched note, sending tremors through the ground and forcing weeds up through the dirt to wrap around Kurama's ankles. The earth melted into mud and wrapped around his feet, anchoring him where he stood as it solidified. Kurama only laughed again, more confidently this time. 

"I can see you are losing your mind," he said as his chuckling trailed off. Small sparks of pink energy spiraled down his legs and the weeds unwound themselves, re-weaving into a thin carpet trail before him which led right to Miru's feet. More weeds poked up to break apart the mud, freeing him easily, and then tied themselves into the others to widen the path. Miru frowned, her eyes narrowing.

"It's not supposed to be this way," she said coldly. Kurama grinned and winked.

"Ah, but it is."

"No it's _not_." And then she let out a long, low sound, rocking the ground more than before and making Kurama frown as he widened his stance uncertainly. Fire began to spring up, shooting out of previously sealed holes and forming something of a circle around Kurama. Hiei would have leapt down then to help if Kurama had not made it painfully obvious with his taunts that he did not want help until he was dead.

Now, the problem was not so much that Kurama did not like fire—he was in love with a firebaby, after all. It was more that in a fight, he usually gave Hiei all opponents who dealt with fire so that his friend could absorb it and use it for himself, and so that Kurama's plants did not burn. Admittedly, Karasu had set his plants on fire so many years ago, but that had been a long and hard battle, and one he did not care to repeat. But fire did not hurt him any more than another attack of the same caliber and a different element. If Miru thought that was the case, she would be sorely mistaken, but, Kurama mused, he might be able to use that to his advantage.

"Fire?" he said callously, using an inflection that did a poor job trying to cover fear. "You think you can stop me with this second-rate cage? A fox shows his teeth when he is trapped."

Miru cackled, enjoying herself. "You mean the fox spirit? I've dealt with him before and won," she said. "Bring on your worst, Yôko!"

There was no bright flash of light, nor was there any fanfare; one moment, Kurama had been trapped within the flames, and the next, Yôko stood there instead. He looked around calculatingly and faced a certain direction as if to jump over the fire there. At a specific moment, however, he did not jump over the flame as Miru seemed to be expecting him to, but back-flipped over the fire behind him and landed in a graceful crouch, dodging her next attack.

"A basic move," Kurama said with a smirk in his voice. "Perhaps you ought to spend less of your time gaining new tricks and more of it learning how to _use_ them."

Miru growled and the ground shook again, sending clouds of stone towards Kurama from different directions. He merely danced away from them, his tail waving slightly. Miru noticed this and nearly screamed her frustration; it seemed that only Hiei noticed something about the fox's intentions that did not quite match his actions.

At that moment, Yôko's eyes darted to Hiei and back to the fight. The glance was so quick that Miru did not notice it, as she had blinked, and Hiei almost did not, except that he had been watching for something like it. It gave him a great confidence to know that Kurama knew where he was, but it also gave him a great unrest to think that Kurama was uncertain of himself and perhaps nervous about the fight. Hiei wanted to go down and help, he wanted it desperately, but even more he wanted to do what _Kurama_ wanted him to do, so he stayed put and prayed that Kuwabara and Yûsuke would not leap down to join the fray.

Then something strange began to happen. The ground seemed to open up, cracking into fissures in several different places. For a moment, Hiei thought that Kurama was causing these breaks with some new power, but the fox appeared just as confused as Hiei, if not more so. Only Miru was smiling, laughing wildly, and Hiei and Kurama realized at the same time that she must be doing this for some reason.

The entire landscape began to change, the fissures becoming greater and greater splits until they had created great holes and little land was left. Miru sang another, louder note, and more earth fell away until only a small pillar remained where she was standing and Kurama was left clinging to the walls of the cliff. Hiei snarled, growling in his frustration.

That girl was beginning to cross a line.

* * *

"We've got to do something." 

Yûsuke sat up, frowning, and looked down at his friend. "Are you serious? We can't do anything; Kurama would kill us! And if Kurama didn't kill us, Hiei would kill us!"

Kuwabara shook his head and sat up as well. "I don't care. We've got to do _something_, this is ridiculous! Miru just took away the _ground_, and Kurama's got nowhere left to go. This is beyond unfair by about twenty steps too many."

"I know," Yûsuke said tersely, "but Kurama wouldn't want us to, and since Kurama wouldn't want us to, Hiei wouldn't want us to, and so we're not going to."

"Man, don't you ever break any rules that aren't enforced by the law?"

Yûsuke frowned. "Uh, no. Why not leave them alone, huh? They're not hurting anybody who doesn't totally deserve it."

Shaking his head, Kuwabara lay back on his elbows, abandoning the drama below for the moment. "Do you ever lose any sleep at night over anything?"

Shrugging, Yûsuke returned his attention to eavesdropping, even though the only real noise was Miru's howling laugh at Kurama's sudden misfortune.

Kuwabara closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out her piercing screech. He really needed to get a hobby.

* * *

Kurama flattened himself against the cliff wall, clinging to it by driving his claws into the stone. Lucky he had them; why hadn't Miru done this when he was in his human form? No matter, he needed a way out of his current predicament. 

"I've trapped the fox!" Miru shouted to him. As though he couldn't hear her, he thought ruefully. "I've trapped the fox," she said again, "and no one's coming to your rescue! I guess that answers the question of whether your little firefly loves you, don't you think?"

Kurama frowned. "Don't speak of things you don't understand, child," he said, his tight predicament giving his animal instincts a bit of an adrenaline rush. "You've still not told me who you really love!"

"You've still not told me who you _think_ I really love!" she returned tauntingly. "Come on, losers first!"

"Oh, I have no intention of being the loser," Kurama muttered, "but I will go first, for your sake."

"Oh, thank you _so_ much."

"Mm," he said vaguely. "I think…you have never known love at all."

Miru gritted her teeth and shook her head several times, quickly, like a small child about to throw a tantrum. "I have!" she shouted, enforcing the impression. "I have! My mother loved me very much, and so did my brother!"

Kurama nodded, closing his eyes calmly. "Of course they did. But the love you speak of is of a different sort, is it not? You speak of the love between _lovers_. You claim to possess this bond with another, and I challenge you to that. You have never felt such a thing in your life!"

Miru jumped in place, then stomped her foot. "I have!" she said again. "I am in love with another this very moment! How dare you challenge that, you fiend?"

"No," Kurama said, shaking his head. "You are not, and I will tell you exactly what you _are_ feeling. What you are mistaking for love."

"I _am_—"

"Hush now," he continued dangerously, a fierce glimmer in his eyes. "Simply listen. You feel not love for me, but a desire for revenge. Just as you convinced me that I was responsible for the fiasco that nearly cost you your life, you very well convinced yourself, but for a different reason: You _needed_ to believe it in order to cleanse your conscience! In order to keep sending me those messages, in order to keep evading capture, in order to teach yourself the way of the Choir Song, in order to kill those who tried to capture you or drive them to madness or even take them as your own slaves, you needed to believe you were _right_."

Hiei nodded as he listened. Kurama was making more sense than he had made in the last three or four years combined. Miru was shaking her head rhythmically, trying to deny the facts as she heard them.

"No, no, no, no, no," she repeated over and over, clutching her hands around her ears. "It's not _true_, it's _not_!"

"You do not love your slaves, that much is obvious," he said wryly. "We need not even touch upon that. But who does that leave?"

"It's not true, it's not true!" Miru screamed, falling to her knees.

"The poor child," Hiei said, descending the cliff in a single jump and landing beside Kurama as if he had been there all the time. "Delusional, I believe."

Kurama smiled slightly, looking at Hiei out of the corner of his eye. "You know, I believe you're right."

"You're _lying_!"

"Am I?" Kurama asked then, turning his attention back to Miru completely. "That leaves only the little _firefly_."

"No!" Miru screamed, sounding as though she was being tortured. "You think I'm in love with _him_? You're mad!"

"I don't," Kurama said, "which is precisely the point. _You_ do, but I do _not_. And, I gather," Kurama continued with a glance at the firefly in question, "neither does he."

"Then what _is_ it?" Miru cried, more of a wail this time, slightly desperate. She grabbed her own hair and began to pull it, her elbows bent inward to cover her face. Kurama and Hiei nearly pitied her, but, remembering all she had done, felt their hatred intensify instead.

"What is it?" Kurama asked, toying with her as he began to enjoy himself. The corners of Hiei's mouth tilted slightly in the shadow of a frown; Kurama wasn't the sadistic one. What was this, exactly?

"Please, tell me," Miru whispered, huddled in on herself and peeking up at them through her hands. She truly did look pathetic.

"It is _jealousy_."

Hiei blinked. Jealousy? Of all things, he thought. As far as he knew, Miru thought Kurama's love was unrequited. Of course, it wasn't, but what did she have to be jealous of, believing the lie as she did? Unless, of course…of course. She _knew_. She knew Hiei loved Kurama, and she knew that Kurama knew it. She saw their furtive glances; every time their eyes had met, unseen, _she had known_. She had been watching and she knew. She always knew. Her secret power was, perfectly, keeping secrets.

But why jealousy? How? Hiei looked at Kurama and waited for his prideful smirk to dissipate into further explanation.

"You know that I love Hiei." Kurama frowned momentarily at this news being gathered by such a demented source. "You tell me that he does not love me in return, but why? No," he raised his hand to stop her as she was about to answer, "don't speak. You don't know why. I will tell you: it is because you know he _does_. Your entire life has been wasted trying to convince me of a crime I did not even commit. Even the chance at a shred of happiness would destroy all that you have tried to build me into, so you needed to steal it."

"I stole _nothing_!"

Hiei scoffed and Miru began to cry. Kurama merely shook his head.

"This is true, in the matter to which we are referring," he admitted. "But that does not mean you didn't try. You tried hard, in fact, and failed. Even if you do not realize it, you tried your best. But why Hiei? I have many loved ones you could have exploited; it could not simply be because he was here with me. No, the reason is even simpler: _you want to end this_. You do not want to continue hounding me any more than I want you to! You are _young_, Miru, and you are getting _bored_. This game has been going on for years and years, and you may well have found a new target by now. In your desperation to end the game, your mind, which could not handle losing, oh, no, that mind of yours tricked you into thinking you were in _love_, of all things."

"No," Miru said with a desperate certainty. "No, that's not true. I'm in love and I know what it feels like, I _know_ what I feel!"

Digging his nails deeper into the wall, Kurama laughed shortly. "I thought you said you weren't?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"Trying to throw me one last knife, dig in one last wound, you tried to begin your game anew with the wrong pawn, didn't you? You tried to grab Hiei, tried to fool him and drive him mad in the same way you did me. But you didn't quite count on him not falling for your tricks, nor did you count on me coming in for one last standoff. This is the end, Miru. This chapter of your game is closing, and it is the last one to ever be written. Simply because it has not ended in the way you wished is no reason to try and hold it open. Give up, child. You are _pathetic_."

"_No_!"

With one final, desperate scream, Miru called a towering wave of fire from the pits of the Earth and flung it up before Kurama in a massive wave. He could do nothing but gaze up at it with a mild fear, though age made him calm and accepting of the death that the flames were sure to bring.

Hiei looked at Kurama anxiously. Could he help him? Save him? Should he? What would happen if he did? If he did not?

The flames began to fall, and Hiei braced himself to run.

Kurama looked at him with sad but resigned eyes. Hiei drew in a shocked breath, filling his lungs with heat.

Kurama was ready to die.

Kurama _wanted_ to die.

He could stop it all. He could save Kurama, his friend, his love, who wanted to die.

He could.

But he was running out of time.

* * *

Mini-note: I feel that I deserve a cliffy. I haven't had one in awhile and I'm in a right state, so I'm sorry, but I'm sure you think you know what's going to happen next and I'm sure some of you are right. 


	17. Living Long Enough

Disclaimer: I am so overloaded, despite the fact that I'm not in school at the moment and my job won't start until July.

_Fall_

_I wake up feeling the same way again  
Another day to waste being lost in nowhere.  
Can I be all that's been planned out for me  
Or have I lost all motivation?_

—_Plan 10, "So Confusing"_

Chapter Sixteen: Living Long Enough

Yûsuke couldn't help himself as he looked over the cliff's edge, fire below illuminating his eyes an eerie orange.

"Kurama!"

He screamed at the top of his lungs. Kuwabara winced, not expecting the shattering noise, and covered his ears as a reflex.

"Do you mind?" he grumbled, shaking his head as if to restore his lost hearing. Yûsuke frowned, still glaring over the precipice.

"Hiei!" he screamed this time, having paid Kuwabara no mind. "Get out of there!"

"Guys, come on!" Kuwabara yelled as well, forgetting his eardrums. The fire, he noticed suddenly, was awfully hot, even from such a distance. He could only imagine—and he didn't care to—how the two about to be engulfed by it must feel. He knew his and Yûsuke's shouts were useless and if anything, distracting, but he knew Yûsuke felt as he did: tired of sitting around doing nothing. Hiei was the best suited to deal with fire attacks, of course, but they could be doing something, couldn't they? Anything at all!

Even as he thought it, Kuwabara knew that there was nothing. It drove him mad, but he edged his hand towards Yûsuke so as to grab the boy if he tried to leap into action.

"Guys!"

* * *

In an instant, Hiei's problem flashed across his mind: Fire left no time for thought. Regret was regret, but some regret could be done away with through good or diabolical deeds or such things. Death left no room for error. With that thought bouncing around in his skull and eluding any real concept, Hiei found himself finished with his move before he quite knew he had made it. The next thing he knew was Kurama, who had slipped back into an expressionless state of resigned slogging. Hiei knelt beside him, frowning.

"Did you really expect me to leave you there?" Hiei asked bluntly. Kurama looked up at him, but Hiei wished he wouldn't. Those once bright green eyes, fading into blankness, were worse than if he had screamed "I hate you" ten thousand times. The fox slowly shook his head in a manner resembling some wax doll, and Hiei felt a shiver run down his spine.

"I suppose I only hoped…" Kurama trailed off vaguely. Hiei huffed his frustration, forgetting about Kurama's well being for a moment and reaching out to shake his shoulder roughly.

"Are you still hoping?" he asked harshly, finishing his shake off with a small shove. "Are you? Is that all you're going to do, Kurama, keep _hoping_? Are you going to _hope_ that I fix all your problems for you?"

Even as he spoke the words, Hiei was surprised to hear them coming from his mouth. Accustomed to being stepped on by those he thought to be friends, he had learned to shove down bitterness and resentment until they had shaped his personality to their liking. Anyway, he was never one to clean up others' messes, so that was a first. He decided that he didn't like it and vowed never to do it again, although it might be the kind of vow to break for the right people. Maybe. He would leave his options open.

Kurama looked up, his dull eyes watering even as he seemed detached from them. Hiei blinked, surprised at the blatant show of emotion, and slowly drew his hand back.

"I'm sorry," the fox whispered, and an old conversation of theirs darted across Hiei's mind.

He looked away, ashamed and not knowing why.

"Please," he said firmly, controlling his voice with a strictness that staved off tears. "Don't apologize."

Kurama smiled, his eyes still blank and teary. "But it's all my fault."

Hiei grimaced. "I know. But that doesn't mean you have to kill yourself."

"No, that wasn't about this," Kurama said as he shook his head. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"What," Hiei asked thinly, not in the mood for jokes, "be crushed by a wall of flame? Lose a battle? Lose a _war_?"

"Lovely," Kurama said, touching Hiei's neck gently. "Kill myself."

The touch suddenly began to burn as if Kurama had captured the fire scorching the ground below in his fingertips and was trying to sear Hiei's neck. Hiei winced, his eyes darting over to Kurama even as his face remained turned away. What possible reason could Kurama have for killing himself? It couldn't be that he was simply unhappy with things; Miru had to be the cause of that, and Kurama himself had just proclaimed that she had no chance of living.

Kurama smiled in a curiously warm, simpering smile and removed his fingers. "Did it hurt?" he asked, his eyes still dull.

"No," Hiei said sharply, biting his tongue. "Of course not. But I want to know why you want to kill yourself." He lowered his head further, hiding his eyes in the shadow of his hair. "Again."

"Hiei," Kurama said as if to a child. "Dear. I must tell you something about myself."

"I don't know everything already?" Hiei bit out, unable to stop himself. Kurama chuckled weakly and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. You might want to make yourself comfortable; this could take awhile."

"Which, I'm afraid, _you_ don't have."

Simultaneously, Hiei and Kurama looked over Kurama's shoulder to the drop behind him. Miru stood there with her hips thrust out to the side and her fists at her waist, obviously annoyed. Kurama hissed a thin curse and Hiei clenched his teeth. Yûsuke and Kuwabara, having respectfully kept their distance during Kurama's and Hiei's talk, scuttled closer, also hissing angry swears.

"I'll just have to make some time, then, I suppose," Kurama growled, standing. "Cliffs, in case you haven't come across this information in your studies, are several levels _above_ surface. That means your fire attack is useless, even if you dared try it twice."

"And remember," Yûsuke said with a sneer, "if Kurama doesn't finish you off, one of us _will_."

"Yes, I'll keep that in mind." Miru moved into a fighting stance, her hands raised near her neck. "Anytime, fox," she mocked. "Anytime."

Kurama's expression became blank and he raised his hand near his neck, as well. Miru grinned cockily and laughed.

"You think you can use my Choir power?" she asked, incredulous. "Just because you've seen me use it before, you think you can do it. That's great, fox boy, that's really great."

Kurama smiled wryly, closing his eyes for a moment. "I believe all formality has gone out of this fight," he said. "We will begin upon the first attack, agreed?"

"Fine by me." Miru bounced from one foot to the other, eager to get going. Kurama shook his head twice, still smiling.

"Your impatience will be your downfall, little girl," he advised her. Yûsuke watched the fight with interest and Kuwabara tried to figure out the thought processes behind either fighter's actions and words. Hiei stood off to the side, wishing he could help but knowing enough not to.

"Lot of talk for such a measly spirit!" Miru sang a loud, shrill note and Kurama found himself lifted into the air, his left arm bound to his side. For some reason, perhaps a lack of focus, she had left his right arm free, raised near his ear. His eyes narrowing and his smile growing malicious, Kurama reached into his hair and snatched up a rose seed, growing it as he brought it back around to his front and snapping it into his Rose Whip. The long vine reached out and slapped Miru across her cheek, cutting into her flesh and leaving a red glaze over the welt. Crying out, she reached up to hold her cheek and as her concentration dropped, Kurama was freed.

Wasting no time, he rushed forward in a blur, his whip held out behind him and ready to strike. With tears welling in her eyes and a sorrowful cry in her throat, Miru wildly waved her hand as if smearing away some invisible water and a shield burst out of the air before her. Kurama stopped short, but the shield soon evaporated and he flicked his wrist, his whip wrapping around her throat.

"I should decapitate you now," he said, his voice quiet and deadly. Miru's eyes widened and she looked quickly from side to side, searching for any advantage she could find to get her out of her predicament. Kurama grinned, his fangs glinting.

"I should," he repeated, tightening his whip. "And I might, if not for one thing."

Miru began clawing fruitlessly at the constantly tightening whip. Hiei cocked his head slightly, and Yûsuke and Kuwabara drew back a step.

Kurama coughed a small laugh.

"I am your experiment."

The whip tightened.

"Your toy."

Rivulets of blood began trickling down Miru's neck.

"Your executioner."

Tears that had welled up in her eyes began to fall in thick streams.

"You should never have cornered this fox."

She tried to speak and the whip tightened further.

"He likes to play his games."

Miru cried, silent for her noose, and grasped vainly at the thorns cutting into her. Kurama tightened the whip once more before pulling it back to himself, letting it fall in a coil on the ground. Testing the depth of her wounds, Miru touched the rows of pricks in her neck and found them to be deep enough to bleed heavily—probably cutting into some vital something, but she didn't know what—but not fatal. Painful, but not fatal. She winced; make that _very_ painful. Kurama stood by, examining his nails with a small grin on his face.

"How dare you stand there smirking at me?" Miru snapped, putting her fists back on her hips. "You nearly killed me, you bastard! Explain yourself!"

"Hm?" Kurama looked up as if noticing her for the first time. "This requires no explanation beyond the one you have already been given. Go now," he made a shooing motion with his hands. "Play your game. I am here; fight me."

Miru blinked and titled her head, confused at the overwhelming advantage she had just been given. She backed away a few steps before taking a running start towards Kurama, leaping into the air theatrically with her hands above her head. She pointed to Kurama as she landed in an obvious pose, reminding him of some shôjo cartoon.

"You, sir," she said proudly, making Kurama wince, "have mistakenly challenged the master of Choir magic! You shall be given no quarter!"

On the sidelines, Hiei blanched. What kind of crap was this girl trying to pull? Had they mistakenly grabbed her out of a cartoonish television show? And was it possible for her to have _any_ sort of serious fight? Ever?

"I'll be sure to remember that," Kurama answered as Miru hummed a low note. Not entirely surprisingly, his whip suddenly snapped in two, leaving a mere stem in his hand. Kurama let his fang show in the shadow of a smile as he threw the stem aside. Uncharacteristically, he dashed behind Miru and kicked her, nearly throwing her to the ground. Hiei made sure to note her slow reaction time to physical combat; although fisticuffs were not Kurama's strength, they appeared to be an actual weakness for Miru, which should prove to be the fox's advantage.

Sure enough, Miru winced as she stood and began singing a soft tune which reminded Hiei of "Claire de Lune." Kurama moved one foot back, preparing to jump, when a soft glow surrounded Miru herself. The four men cocked their heads in unison, watching her with some trepidation. Oddly, the glow faded with no damage done to any of them. Kurama took a step towards her suspiciously.

Miru cackled, immensely pleased with herself. "Curious, boys?" she mocked. "Well, the great Kurama was wrong, it seems; some of my new tricks _are_ worth learning."

New…

"I bet you think you're unbeatable now," Kurama said, understanding at once. Yûsuke blinked. Miru grinned.

"Well, I kind of am," she said with a sickening giggle. Hiei, who had been biting his tongue, spit a glob of blood on the ground.

Yûsuke leaned over to Kuwabara. "What am I missing?" he whispered.

Kuwabara shrugged. "I'm not sure. What did Miru just do to herself?"

Hiei slid the pair a sidelong glance of exasperation. "She healed herself. You didn't notice the sudden rise in her energy levels?"

"Was that what that was?"

Rolling his eyes, Hiei turned back to the action before him.

"Healing abilities—well," Kurama stopped himself. "I won't tell you how to lose this fight."

Hiei frowned. He had never heard Kurama use such crass banter during a fight before. This was most unlike him; perhaps he was not getting better after all?

Miru was in stitches. "_Lose_ this fight?" she howled. "I think not! Oh," she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes, "dear, we shall see who is the loser of this fight. I have already defeated you once today, and I think I shall add another. If you don't mind."

"And if I do?"

"Well, that hardly matters."

Miru opened her mouth wide, probably for effect, and sang the tune of a loud, melodious song that reminded Kurama entirely too much of a sickening children's nursery rhyme. Strangely, the ground began to fall away in greats spots, leaving pillars behind for them to jump to. Yûsuke, Kuwabara, and Hiei skittered off to the cliff's edge where her magic had left larger supports, more like sandbars.

Kurama was left balancing on a precariously narrow column, but he did not seem to mind. Hiei recalled seeing him stand on bases as narrow and rounded as a flagpole, so this should be no challenge at all. In fact, Kurama was yawning exaggeratedly, much to Miru's dismay.

Yûsuke leaned toward Hiei hesitantly as Miru fumed. "Why did she do that?" he asked in a hushed tone. "She's not very adept, doesn't that move give Kurama the advantage?"

Hiei shook his head. "Not entirely. It's true that the move itself doesn't debilitate Kurama at all—if anything, it gives him an advantage because Miru expects it to weaken him. However, it gives Miru a slight advantage in that she does not have to drain the ground from beneath Kurama's feet to drop him down; she only has to snap the column he stands on, which is significantly easier and faster for her."

"But doesn't it also limit her?" Kuwabara asked suspiciously. "She can't move from the platform she stands on without seriously risking falling down into the canyon she's created. I mean, we all saw Kurama kick her; she's not that coordinated on her feet."

"An oversight on her part," Hiei conceded. "Her thinking is too one-dimensional. Kurama knows this—watch him, he knows it all right—but she does not, and she is not so accomplished at reading his emotions as to suspect that he knows something, whatever it may be, that she doesn't. For all her torments of him, she hasn't actually been around him much at all. She can't recognize his body language or his expressions."

"Ah…"

"I have only one rule in this bout," Miru was saying. Kurama remained impassive, which she took as a cue to continue. "You may not use your flying plant. Your Fuyouka Shokubutsu."

Kurama shrugged indifferently, angering Miru further. "All right. I will agree to your terms."

She paused a moment before speaking again. "And have you none for me?"

"Pardon? Oh," Kurama blinked, "dear me, no. Feel free to use whatever diabolical and underhanded means you see fit to win this fight. I will be content for you to live with the knowledge that you could not ever truly defeat me, should things come to that."

Meanwhile, this was all making Hiei quite nervous. Kurama's nonchalant attitudes during a fight were usually much more controlled than this and much less…much less _bored_. It was almost as if Kurama simply didn't _care_. But that couldn't be, could it? No; Hiei rid himself of that ridiculous thought at once.

"Then we shall begin at once!"

Kurama nodded. Miru trilled. The column he stood on snapped at its base, nearly sending him into the abyss below.

Miru hissed shortly and snapped her fingers as Kurama leapt gracefully, and primarily quickly, to a different column of needle-thin rock. He did not seem to do anything else, which perplexed the spectators most.

The fight continued in this manner for several minutes until Kurama was left on the only remaining column short of Miru's little platform. She grinned, confident in her ability to win the fight with little effort. Kurama stood up as straight as he could, his posture not at all suited for jumping.

"Senile, old boy?" Miru asked teasingly. "Think you can win without even trying? Well, I've got new for you: youth is going to grasp its tomorrow, today!"

Yûsuke gaped and Kuwabara smacked his forehead as a vein above Hiei's eye twitched dangerously. Kurama only chuckled at Miru's pathetic attempt at profundity.

"I'll be sure to check up on youth's progress in that matter," Kurama assured her. Miru sang a short, harsh note and the last pillar crumbled, forcing Kurama to Miru's territory. She grinned, showing her teeth in a malicious smile.

Kurama held up his hand to forestall the fight. "Answer me this first," he said. "Why do you smile in this predicament? I clearly have the advantage; you are not terribly agile, nor have you shown yourself to be physically powerful."

Hiei bit his tongue inside his mouth. That comment was somewhere between the new, unfamiliar Kurama and the old, tactical Kurama. It was better than nothing, but still not fabulous.

"You think you're going to win?" Miru snapped, suddenly harsh. "You think that just because you're older, just because you're more 'worldly,' just because you're so, fucking, _famous_, I'm going to kneel before you and kiss your grimy little claws? I'm going to fall in _love_ with you? I'm going to be another mark on your bedpost? Well, I'll show you. I'll show all of you," she finished with a flourish, gesturing dramatically to the fighters behind Kurama.

Kurama smiled sagely, his eyes half closed. "Ah."

" 'Ah,' what?"

"My dear, you are young." Kurama shook his head and looked away from Miru completely, a basic fighter's "absolutely never" move. "You are too young to tell me I am worldly. Too young for this fight. Too young," he looked at her pityingly, "for this game."

Miru gaped, stunned out of attacking and trembling slightly. Kurama chuckled softly.

"You have a basic child's delusion."

"I am nothing 'basic'! Take that back, right now!"

"Oh, my dear girl!" Kurama said, suddenly the wise old grandfather figure. "No, you are nothing basic, but you are affected by a the delusion of a basic child."

Miru frowned, glaring. "Explain yourself."

"You see?" Kurama touched his fingers tenderly to his own cheek in an almost nostalgic manner. "You think you can demand such things as explanations from me. Me! Your far superior! Ah," he grinned widely again, suppressing another laugh, "you are so young, so involved in this game beyond your comprehension… Forgive me, but I forget sometimes how stupid youth can be."

"I—"

"Wait now," Kurama held up his hand, "and simply listen."

"I don't have to listen to _anything_ you say!"

"This is true," Kurama admitted, "and I will not force you."

Despite this concession, Miru did not move. Kurama smiled knowingly and Hiei, Yûsuke, and Kuwabara edged closer to the edge of their wide open prison to listen to his words.

"The only reason you wish for this game to continue is so that you can end it," Kurama began. Miru frowned but did not speak. "You are getting bored with me now; I was a grand prize for you once, but that prize has lost its novelty and even now, as Yôko Kurama fades from this world, his adventures are not being passed down to the new youth. He will never be forgotten, but he will never be remembered quite right. Someday, he will be the greatest of fox demons with one thousand magical tails, stealing whatever he wanted whenever he wished to take it. Someday, he will be gone forever.

"As the innovation of your prize fades, so does its worth in this modern world. Yôko Kurama is gone forever from his old life and he will never come to the latest invention of this world; your trophy is increasingly more worthless. You want a new reward to brag of, a new crown to parade about before those you have never met, and will never meet. You want to gather your fame not for achieving your own greatness, but for destroying it in another."

Miru was absolutely seething, but appeared desperate to hear more. "And what does the charm of youth have to do with any of this?" she growled, trying to appear as though she was on the verge of fleeing and doing a poor job of it.

Kurama smiled wanly once more, casting his eyes up to the bloody red sky. "Youth is immortal," he said softly.

"_You_ are immortal," Miru corrected.

"No," Kurama corrected, "not in reality. I am immortal only in that old age cannot take my life from me if I do not wish it so. Youth is immortal in a different sort; it is the immortality of the mind, nothing more."

"The mind is no more immortal than the body."

"You misunderstand." Kurama shook his head, trying to find the proper words to express his point. "In youth, one merely _feels_ immortal. Taking risks, making dares, fighting fights; these are all death defying, in their way, and signs of immortality. Or rather, the illusion thereof. Youth, you see, is too young, too inexperienced to comprehend death as a force of nature. It is merely a darkness which claims the old, the weak, the sick. Youth can never be touched by this darkness for its brilliant barrier of disillusionment, its failure to realize that death can claim even the youngest, even the spryest, even the bravest among us. The barest thought of deadly sickness is kept at bay by this magical shield. As a child, you cannot understand the tiredness that comes with age, nor the regret. Nor even, perhaps, the wish for death."

At this remark, Hiei drew in a sharp breath, his fears as good as confirmed. As right as Kurama was (even as Hiei heard the words, he knew they were all true, but he didn't have to like it), he had been trying to fight back the thought that Kurama still actually wanted to die. Yûsuke looked down at him worriedly, but Hiei recovered himself as soon as he had made the slip and the gasp might as well have come from the air itself.

"How can one simply wish for death?" Miru asked skeptically. "If such a thing should occur, there are thousands, millions of ways to kill a person! It would not be so hard to put oneself out of that misery."

"Another point you fail to understand," Kurama said. "Affairs, so to speak, must be put to rest, sorted through carefully—painfully so, in fact, so as to leave no possible regret. Certain people must be made to understand certain things, to think in certain ways, so that they can see the light blinding the eyes of the already dead."

"But when putting these affairs in order, the person is not dead yet. You speak in circles, you old fool." Miru spit over the ledge on which she stood, arrogantly folding her arms across her chest.

"He might as well be, if he wishes for such a thing."

Hiei knew the comment was directed at him, at least partly, but he refused to accept this speech (meaningful and revealing as it was) as Kurama's last farewell. They would speak face-to-face when it was over and done with.

"Then why does he still refuse to do the deed? Is he afraid?"

Kurama laughed a short bark. "Far from it! As such a child, you cannot understand many things. In your twisted way, you claim to understand life, love, happiness, and so forth, but in truth, you understand only your own illusions of such things. Even then, because you are not comprehending reality, you are confused. You are not in love with Hiei, but jealous of the love he and I appear to share."

At that precise wording, Hiei's ears perked. What was that, exactly?

"You have never known true happiness; before meeting me, you desperately sought your place in this universe, and afterwards, your life, as you would call it, became a mere obsession, a simple hobby. Nothing more. It does not make you _happy_; it only occupies your time, and child, your time has run out for this game. The limit has come and you must restart if you wish to continue."

"And what of life?"

"Life, my dear, is explained in death."

Miru's eyes were incredibly wide at this point and she backed up a step, forgetting that she had nowhere to go. As her foot slipped, she reflexively sang a dull tune and created another block of land behind her to stand on. The tune continued until she had drawn a ramp down the side of the cliff, leading her to the ground below and removing the threat of a deadly fall.

"Even now, you dodge death with your childish games," Kurama said somewhat proudly. "You see? You have given yourself a safety net, a last card up the sleeve. You fear death because you are too young to understand it, or to feel its pull, to see its _attraction_."

"No," Miru said, fearful but trying to sound brave. "No, death will never attract me. I will never be drawn to it, never."

Kurama sighed sadly, shuffling around to turn his back to Miru. "Probably," he admitted. "Unless you learn to use your power wisely, your overconfidence will lead you to an early death. But it is too late for that, I fear."

"I can do anything I want to!"

"Any child can."

"Shut up!"

As Miru screamed, Kurama looked over his shoulder at her, his smile pitying both her and himself. "Go on," he said softly. "Go on now, little one, and live a life of fortitude among those you have never met, and will never meet. Show yourself off and be great."

Angry tears fell from Miru's eyes, staining her cheeks a spotty white and turning her plain eyes bright red. "I'll show _you_," she said with a barely controlled fury, her voice carrying the choked accent of one who had been crying. "I'll be even greater than you! I'll be the master you never were; I'll be better than you ever could be!"

Kurama only smiled at her, closing his eyes. He did not see her about to punch him, holding herself back as she ran off in a teary fit. He did not sense her energy fluctuate as she nearly tripped down the hill, overcompensating by spiking her power. He did not hear the last words she would ever speak to him as she ran off, muttering to herself the words that screamed in her head. But perhaps most importantly, he did not know that Hiei, out of respect and fear, did not run to him at once, but let him stand alone and mourn as only a dead man could.

* * *

NO, THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. For as much as I love endings with unresolved questions, I will probably answer the following:

Is Kurama _literally_ dead?

Now onto the boring stuff:

Note that "Fuyouka Shokubutsu" literally means "floating plant" and is the given name for Kurama's…floating plant. The one he uses to fly. Yeah.

P.S., the "old conversation of theirs" Hiei refers to occurs in chapter thirteen, "Sorry for the World." Kurama says he's sorry that Hiei is concerned and Hiei calls him on it, asking him why he apologized for Hiei's concern itself and not for causing it. Then there's a brief explanation: "Someone ought to apologize, even if it's not his fault." "But apologize for _what_?" "_Everything_." Reread it if you find it über important, but it's not critical to the plot.

P.P.S., Hiei thinks back to Kurama's attempt to kill himself, circa chapter five ("Shall I"), and the reasoning behind such an act, circa chapter six ("Necessary Lives"). He disregards Kurama's prior explanation due to their recent, er, adventures tracking Miru, counting it as adventure and pondering that if Miru is gone, Kurama might begin to enjoy life a little. Once again, reread if you are so compelled, but it's not necessary to understand the plot.


	18. Some Will Ask Forgiveness

Disclaimer: romance. Crazy. Not mine, but still. Whoa. I mean a real life romance, not the one in here (which is totally mine, no thieving).

_Fall_

_we ask forgiveness  
the innocent will not be freed  
we are the sinners  
the leaders of hypocrisy  
we ask forgiveness  
but justice will prevail_

—_Suicide Commando, "we are the sinners"_

Chapter Seventeen: Some Will Ask Forgiveness

"Don't."

Yûsuke looked down at Hiei, who stood several meters to his right. He said nothing, but looked curious, presumably as to the older man's utterance. Kuwabara did not look at either of them, but sat on the ground and watched Kurama, who was apparently doing nothing.

Hiei did not look at Yûsuke, though he must have known the other man was looking at him. Merely shaking his head slowly, Hiei kept his eyes on Kurama. Sooner or later, the fox would make some signal, give some sign that it was all right for them to go to him, and Hiei would be there in the same second. Until then, no one would be permitted to disturb his solitude. The fire demon grimaced.

No one.

* * *

Kurama smiled bitterly as he extended his power in infinitesimally small portions, cracking apart the hill sloping from his resting spot to the ground far below. Small stones fell down with waves and flecks of dust, the last surviving remnants of a girl he had promised to kill.

Why had he let her go free? He was not certain. He knew he had intended to kill her from the start. Whatever had stopped him from decapitating her had been a dark sort of force, a malicious one desiring suffering. Her suffering, specifically, for all she had done to him. But to let her run off, merely laden with the knowledge that she had a lot to live up to, had been surprisingly uncharacteristic of him. He had expected her to die. He knew Yûsuke, Kuwabara, and Hiei had expected her to die. Her cockiness had surely been nothing more than a vibrant show of confidence she did not feel; she knew he was her superior in every way.

Yet somehow, naming all of her childish, youthful delusions, her vague desires to continue her reigns of terror and destroy the lives of other infamous, extraordinary thieves and fighters and diplomats, he had come to realize that for her lack of experience and her nearly fatal mistake of going after such a grand target as himself, they were similar. In the way that all fighters and tricksters were similar, their motives and desires might be torn down to the same basic core:

Glory.

The only reason he did not flaunt his brilliance in the humans' world was that the prize was too small. Who cared for those private academy brats, waving about their test papers and their almost perfect scores? Who cared for essays and quizzes, who cared for grades? None of it mattered. Not really. Stealing from the demons' world, however, had given him fame and fortune he could not have acquired any other way, despite its lack of any rewards that mattered. At least, any emotional or sensual rewards, the sorts that humans counted above all else.

And Miru was like him, was she not? She was the same, but younger and more blatantly obvious. With time and experience, she might become so subtle, but until then, she was merely a more flamboyant version of himself.

Perhaps that was why he had let her run away.

But even if anyone thought to ask, it was certain that no one would ever really know.

* * *

Hiei nearly slid into Kurama as he leapt to the platform, skidding on the damp grass his friend had grown there. He did not touch Kurama, nor hold him, as he wished to, nor reach out to him, but merely stood, a barrier presence. A demand that Yûsuke and Kuwabara leave them alone, but not shutting Kurama in. He did not speak, respecting the honor of being allowed into Kurama's sanctuary.

For some time, Kurama merely stood, facing away from Hiei, dismantling Miru's escape hill pebble by pebble. Hiei was surprised to find himself not anxious to begin exchanging words, but afraid that Kurama was not, despite his own internal monologue insisting otherwise, going to be all right. He watched the steep slope diminish infinitely slowly and was certain that each small stone, each clump of dirt, represented something precious that he was not privy to. He couldn't bring himself to resent Kurama for that.

Kurama turned his body, only a few degrees, towards Hiei. He smiled, though Hiei could not see.

"Do you hate me?"

Kurama's voice was very small, and Hiei, who was not listening for it, nearly missed the soft question. He shook his head.

"Of course I don't," he said, almost as quiet. He allowed for a moment's pause, in case Kurama wished to speak again.

He did not.

"Kurama, I can't help but be—" Hiei stopped short. He did not like exposing his flaws to others, and he had never divulged a negative trait of his before. But, he thought sternly, if he wanted his proposal to have even a chance of success, he would need to be completely honest with Kurama, even if the fox was not willing to give the same in return.

"Kurama," he began again. "I can't help but be terribly selfish and want you to live as long as possible."

Kurama turned his head this time, looking almost over his shoulder at Hiei. His eyes screamed of a deep-seated sorrow and a deeper regret, but his face remained expressionless. Then he smiled and his eyes became bright, but Hiei saw only another layer of secrets being hidden, shelved somewhere in the furthest recesses of a brilliant mind the world would never understand.

"Darling, darling Hiei…"

Kurama trailed off wistfully and Hiei could not help but think that Kurama had sounded more as though he was talking at him than to him. He sensed that Kurama was not quite finished speaking, and a minute or so later, he discovered he was right.

"Hiei, why do you want me to live?"

Hiei blinked owlishly. Did he really have to say it again? No, he would not admit to the same fault twice; that couldn't be what Kurama was asking.

"Because…" Taking a deep breath, Hiei looked into Kurama's eyes with a fierceness reserved mainly for intimidating powerful opponents. "I love you, and I know you love me as well." It was a gamble, after Kurama's comment to Miru, but it was one Hiei was willing to take. Or if it wasn't, which, he reflected, it might not have been, it was one he had taken on instinct, which was usually a good way to go. "I don't want to lose you."

Suddenly, fiercely, unexpectedly, Kurama grabbed Hiei in a desperate hug, pressing his face into the smaller man's shoulder. Hiei paused a moment, startled at the contact, and hugged Kurama in return. He was not quite sure what to make of the situation, but it seemed to be heading in the right direction.

"Oh," Kurama said then, sounding quite choked, "Hiei, my dear…"

Hiei felt a damp spot on his skin and realized Kurama had started crying. He tightened his hold as much as he could manage.

"My sweet, kind Hiei…"

Even as he heard the words, Hiei was not sure Kurama had spoken them. "Sweet"? "Kind"? Not words he would use to describe himself, and certainly not ones he had ever imagined Kurama using to describe him. Kurama wasn't going crazy, was he? No, he couldn't be!

Kurama raised his head so that their eyes met, his tears still falling steadily. Hiei tilted his head slightly in a show of confusion, but, he realized belatedly, it almost appeared as though he was angling himself to kiss Kurama. That would explain Kurama's gentle, embarrassed laugh.

"I think we need to talk."

"Yes," Kurama replied, still with a hint of laughter in his voice despite the overlying thickness from his tears. "That's exactly what we need. All of us."

"No," Hiei corrected at once, "not all of us. You and I need to talk. You and Yûsuke, you and Kuwabara, you and whomever else you want can talk eventually, but you and I need to talk first. Now."

Kurama smiled, his eyes closed and the tears slowing. He nodded, almost resignedly, and Hiei knew the conversation would be a difficult and probably awkward one. The first problem was how to ditch Yûsuke and Kuwabara, the former of whom had excellent, technically demonic hearing.

"I'll be right back," Hiei said, placing his hands on Kurama's shoulders. "Don't go anywhere."

"Of course not," Kurama said with a surprisingly falsified attitude. "I'm not a beaten puppy, you know."

Hiei nodded uncertainly. "Of course not."

* * *

Kuwabara looked over at Yûsuke, who had become strangely subdued. He was sure that Yûsuke wanted, as he did, to go to Kurama and ask what his farewell to Miru had really meant, but neither moved to do such a thing. He looked back at the fox just in time to see him collapse on Hiei's shoulder, holding him tightly.

"We've got to do something."

Kuwabara looked over at Yûsuke again, who was looking back at him. His eyes had a fierceness so terribly intense that Kuwabara nearly didn't recognize them, although they reminded him of their shared youth. Despite the determination his friend showed, Kuwabara shook his head firmly.

"No, I don't think we do."

His eyes no longer hard but wide and startled, Yûsuke turned from his ready-to-spring position and faced Kuwabara. "What are you, crazy? Kurama just _burst into tears_ and you want to sit back here and do _nothing_?"

"Not quite," Kuwabara said, turning his attention back to their two friends. "We're doing something—"

"Please, enlighten me as to what!"

"—by leaving them to themselves." Kuwabara looked at Yûsuke out of the corner of his half-lidded eye, a picture of superiority. Yûsuke sneered mockingly, a brief jest amidst the seriousness of the situation.

"That's not doing something, that's doing _nothing_," Yûsuke challenged stubbornly. Kuwabara sighed, exasperated.

"Trust me," he said, nodding towards the two men. "They appreciate it. We can talk to Kurama later—we can talk to Hiei later, if we want to, but now, let's leave them alone, huh?"

Yûsuke frowned. "They're having a couple moment, or something?" he asked, only half serious. Kuwabara shrugged.

"I don't know, but I think they're having the kind of conversation only they can understand. I mean, really understand. Look, it's best if we just let it lie, all right? I promise they'll like us better for it."

"We _will_ talk to him later," Yûsuke asserted. Kuwabara nodded willingly.

"It's to be expected."

Silently, Hiei darted away, deeming his presence unnecessary.

* * *

"Shall we go?"

Kurama smiled knowingly, showing his age and wisdom even as he acted like a twenty-something year old. "Yes, let's. Yûsuke and Kuwabara will understand."

Hiei grunted. "Yûsuke?"

"Well," Kurama amended with a small laugh, "perhaps Kuwabara will."

"Mm."

Moments later, Kurama and Hiei leapt down to the base of the cliff—fleeing, in a final act of death defying, Miru had called back the ground to cover the fire spits she had brought forth for her fight with Kurama. The remains of her escape route, the cobblestone cliff, were scattered around, and Kurama reached down to touch the stones reverently. Behind him, Hiei leaned against the cliff itself and watched.

As Kurama picked up a delicate clump of dirt, it began coming apart in his hand and he grasped it, turning it back to dust. Fittingly, a soft wind began to blow over the valley, scattering the sand and stones. Kurama smiled.

"The hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time," he murmured to himself. Hiei closed his eyes and turned away, smiling slightly. Kurama looked over his shoulder.

"Do you disagree?"

Hiei shook his head. "I don't think I could hope to understand what you're talking about on my own."

"That might be a good thing," Kurama said, his smile wistful. "Would you like to understand it at all?"

Surprised, Hiei stepped away from the wall and neared Kurama a few steps, standing over him as he knelt for more stones. "Kurama," he said in all seriousness. "If I can do anything to help you, I would like to."

"Oh Hiei, you poor little boy…"

While that might have been taking things a bit far, Hiei thought, Kurama had to be thinking comparatively, which would mean silence was a potential gateway to understanding whatever thoughts were on the surface of Kurama's mind. Sure enough, a moment later, Kurama began to speak again.

"Hiei, I hope you never have to discover the things I've learned."

Hiei began to frown a bit. Was Kurama hoping for Hiei's life to end before he reached old age?

Per usual, Kurama seemed to read his thoughts. "Your life, you see, has been far too difficult already."

Wasn't that the truth.

"I hope you never come to this death wish I have reached. I hope you are able to find new things around every corner, to remain a child at heart even when life demands otherwise."

Surprisingly, Kurama breached the space between them and laced his hands at the small of Hiei's back in some kind of embrace. Hiei looked up at him, blinking childishly with wide eyes.

"Do you wish to learn more?" Kurama asked. Hiei weighed the consequences: Kurama was asking permission to continue, so clearly there was some perceived risk. Yet if he did request further information, he would see more of Kurama's thoughts and better combat his apparent death wish. Decision made, he nodded firmly, only once. Kurama smiled wearily.

"As a young fox, I lived recklessly," Kurama began as a storyteller might. "Throughout my entire life as a fox, in fact, I lived 'on the edge,' as one might say, taking risks and chances too frequently. I was an unwise child then, but all for a reason well learned: to feel like I was _living_. It was the only way. Stealing from highly protected vaults provided a mental challenge, but escaping alive with my treasure provided a deadly thrill. The novelty of life, I have come to understand, is in knowing I could die."

"But then, when you might have died," Hiei said suddenly, sorry to interrupt but needing clarification he wasn't sure Kurama would otherwise provide, "why did you choose to save yourself? Why did you choose to continue living in this human body of yours?"

"Ah, therein lies the rub." Kurama smiled, pulling Hiei a small bit closer. The demon took another step of his own to place himself flush against Kurama's body, resting his cheek on the fox's chest. "While I could only survive by committing suicidal acts and dodging the consequences, I did not really want to die. Young and scheming, as it were, I never thought of death as a possible end for myself. I was stunned when Kuronue, my very best friend, met his cruel end after one of our thefts; it was actually not long thereafter that I was shot. I don't know if I would have been changed, had I survived a little longer, but such things are not to be dwelt upon. Such things that can never be."

Hiei offered the smallest of unseen smiles and Kurama rested his chin on the top of his friend's head.

"Did you love him?" Hiei asked quietly. Kurama's chest vibrated with silent laughter.

"Love," Kurama said almost sarcastically, "is nothing real."

At that, Hiei's eyes went wide and he almost tried to pull away. Was Kurama now claiming that they two had spent so much time harping on an emotion that wasn't even real? Ridiculous. What sort of fantastic revelation had come to him in the last few days? Hours, even?

"Infatuation is real," Kurama continued with the cold tone of one who had known too much heartbreak and disappointment in his life. "Desire is real, a fierce want for what seems out of reach. Obtaining this thing, this _prize_, is fulfilling for a short while—this is why few humans find futility in love."

His eyes asking questions he did not trust himself to speak, Hiei craned his neck and looked up at Kurama, lightly draping his arms around Kurama's chest and holding his hands tighter than was necessary behind his friend's back. Kurama smiled fondly, his fingers lacing and unlacing nervously.

"A short while has become a strange thing," he said, looking at the bloody sky. Hiei looked at it, as well. "Young and stupid, I called a few dozen years a short while. I called one hundred years a short life instead of the whole lifetime it is to me now. Yet still, it is merely an instant for love. Humans are fortunate in this way—they never seem to tire of their loves, so long as they are true. But I, I am torn apart by this misfortune of love, this poor draw of infinity. Even humans are loved and in love in funny ways; so long as they still hold a shred of that nameless emotion, as they so fondly call it while they name it 'love,' they believe it has not faded. They believe they are still in love as much as they were at first, however long ago. But really, what is it?" Kurama did not smile as he looked down at Hiei, who still watched the skies. "It becomes something meager, something necessary. Separation is hard for humans who are old, and they wish to be with those they have loved for so many years until their dying day. They wish to cling to this comfort until they no longer need it, until they no longer need _anything_.

"But I, who have reached this pinnacle, this hundred year mark several times, have no need for the poor consolation of love. My love fades and is given so rarely that it is barely even there; I feel it even less often and for few. A life in which thrill comes with the threat of death makes no place for love. As you have, I learned to disregard it."

"Don't you dare lump me in with that," Hiei said then, having heard more than he wanted to and probably more than he should have. "I have no disregard for love, a 'meager consolation,' as you call it. I know I love _you_, despite your hatred. I know I love Yukina, my sister. I know I try to love my mother and sometimes succeed in doing so. How can you call love a simple comfort? You, who claim to be so wise."

Hiei finished speaking with some derision, looking at Kurama defiantly and daring him to counter the argument. His thoughts slowly being altered, Kurama let his chin drop to his chest and felt his eyes burn, though he knew he could not cry. Not over this.

"Humans fall in and out of love," Kurama said softly, mournfully. "Love fades with time; those who die in love are lucky, living so short a time that they do not see it gone."

"So you admit love is a beneficial emotion," Hiei challenged at once, speaking in pointedly technical terms. "You admit those who are in love are lucky."

Kurama bit his lip, finding the conundrum in his own words. "I suppose so," he said, "but the pain of losing love is not worth the joy of having it at all."

Keeping his hands firmly behind Kurama's back, Hiei stepped back and looked up at him, frowning and looking mildly displeased. "Yet you won't take that joy, even if it is so 'meager,' because you're afraid of being hurt? I expected better of such a man as yourself."

"It's not only that," Kurama tried to explain. "Hiei, you seem to forget: _I want to die_. I won't explicitly return your feelings and then leave you alone so selfishly!"

"So don't die!"

"Do you even realize what you're _asking_?"

* * *

STILL NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! How could it be, that sounded like a little cliffhanger to me. Little tiny.

"Kurama's comment to Miru": "You are not in love with Hiei, but jealous of the love he and I appear to share" (c. 16).

"The hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time": from "Seasons in the Sun" (song)

This chapter was heavily influenced by AoiHyou's fic "In Lieu of Fire." I suggest you all read it, it's quite good. It was also influenced slightly and in a much more historic fashion by Random Author Person's "Love Conquers Sue." I suggest you all read it (if you can get your hands on a copy), it's quite funny.

**Super quickie note**: I hope you noticed the ironic and actually unintentional similarities between Kurama's speech to Miru and Kurama's explanation of love to Hiei. Brief comparison:

"I was a grand prize for you once, but that prize has lost its novelty…your trophy is increasingly more worthless. You want a new reward to brag of…" (c. 16, "Living Long Enough").

"Desire is real, a fierce want for what seems out of reach. Obtaining this thing, this _prize_, is fulfilling for a short while—this is why few humans find futility in love" (c. 17, "Some Will Ask Forgiveness").


	19. You're Surely Missed

Disclaimer: you know that new Superman movie? Full of flaws. Totally full of them. Batman rules.

_Fall _

_Crying to sleep is my remedy  
urgently trying to stand on broken / confused legs  
Am I looking for reasons not to be happy  
emotions catch up with me / I'm too fast for them _

_—Poison the Well, "Mid Air Love Message" _

Chapter Eighteen: You're Surely Missed

Such loud, ferocious tones were not typical of Kurama, and at the vicious question, Hiei could not help but fall silent. He shook his head slowly, disbelievingly, his eyes wide and unblinking. Kurama seethed.

"Do you?" Kurama asked more quietly. "I have nothing left, Hiei, _nothing_. I have no reason for being and you want me to stay alive merely for _you_? For some love you claim we share?" He scoffed, arrogant and childish. "You…you know _nothing_, nothing at all!"

"But that's all you have left, isn't it?" Hiei asked in a small, sensitive voice. "You have nothing, you said so yourself. Then do I understand what you've got?"

Kurama laughed angrily, his disbelief clear and his annoyance more so. "Meager wordplay!" he shouted, turning around and throwing his arms up as if to embrace the sky itself. "The games of a child, the games you play, you silly, silly boy! Oh," Kurama turned back to Hiei with fire in his eyes, "you think you can fool me? This old fox, fifty times the wiser man than you, and you think you can fool me? How can you?" Then the insanity was back, Kurama's demented clown's face wild and demanding. Hiei recoiled at first, then stepped forward firmly and planted his feet several steps apart to balance his stance.

"I know you're being incredibly selfish and arrogant," Hiei said confidently. "You think that simply because I am younger, because I have not lived all the years you have lived nor learned all the lessons you have learned, you can learn nothing from me. But this is not true—you can learn from me, just as I can learn from you."

Kurama nodded dismissively, shrugging his shoulder in an exaggerated fashion. "Of course," he said. He jolted then, making a small "Oh" sound as Hiei grabbed his shoulder and turned him roughly.

"This," Hiei said, gesturing at Kurama's head, "is not the Kurama I know! This is not the man I have fought beside, and _this_, oh, it is certainly not the man I might have loved. What are you doing to yourself? You are arrogant, you are wild, you are terribly, terribly different from Kurama! Why is it so hard for you to continue living? There is so much more you could learn!" Hiei was holding both of Kurama's shoulders tightly now, nearly shaking them but not quite. "How much do you know, even?" he asked with the smallest hint of desperation. "Words, games, facts? Lessons? Life? This all is nothing if you cannot learn the things that will keep it all in a proper order. You must learn humility, Kurama, and not only the humility of defeat. You—"

Despite his red hair and green eyes, Kurama grabbed Hiei's chin with sharply clawed fingers and tilted it so that he and Hiei were looking into each other's eyes. Kurama's mouth was set firmly, his eyes dark and cold.

"I," Kurama began sternly, "cannot continue this charade any longer. I know I am small. I am weak. I am insignificant, I am _irrelevant_. Pathetic, in the grandest scheme of all things. My knowledge is limited to that which I was permitted to learn by my experiences paired with my underdeveloped sense of self-righteousness and greed. This is little, and it is badly edited compared to all that I could know, all that I _should_ know. Living among humans for so many years, I have come to see all things in this way: _pointless_. No one man _really_ matters, and I, not even a man, cannot raise myself to importance above this. My debts to humanity have been repaid, and I am ready to take the step I should have taken years ago. I am ready to accept my defeat. I will no longer cheat the primal force that is death."

Hiei tried to shake his head, but Kurama's grip was too strong and he merely jostled it. Feeling the motion, Kurama closed his eyes and grinned.

"But what of love?" he said philosophically. Fear crept into Hiei's heart and he listened as closely as he could. "What of this infatuation, this temporary obsession?" Kurama scoffed, tossing his head. "Ha. This is nothing. This is a broken heart glued together by hopes and shards of dreams, waiting to be broken again." Kurama released Hiei's jaw, looking out behind him at the horizon.

"You would let one bad experience ruin any chance at loving again?" Hiei asked, rubbing his chin.

"No bad experiences," Kurama answered casually. "I have never had the misfortune of falling in love."

"Until now."

"Until now." Kurama breathed deeply, sighing. "Well, maybe not."

Hiei glared dully. Kurama could not be toying with him again; that would be vile. And they had already established that Kurama loved him, hadn't they? Hiei could have sworn.

"It's a possibility," Kurama said with a shrug. "I have literally survived hundreds, hundreds of years without love, although I have been faced with the proposition many times. I wonder if I _can_ love, and I wonder if fox spirits are _meant_ to love. I wonder if I felt not the obsession masquerading as love but a mere comfort, a desperate need for such a strong presence as yourself during my instabilities over these last few years. If I mistook such a thing for love, you see."

"That," Hiei said haughtily, "is nonsense." Kurama looked at him skeptically and Hiei shook his head. "If I can love, then you can love. All demons are technically capable of such a thing; your definitions of it as an infatuation have kept you from thinking this way."

"But love is fleeting," Kurama insisted.

Hiei cast his mind around for anything he could use to further his argument and landed on a sorry human cliché. Maybe it would do for the time being. "Have you ever heard that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?"

"But you and I both will have loved and lost, whether I die or not," Kurama pointed out. "Besides, I've always thought that phrase was rather stupid. How could it be better to have known the joys of love, then lost them, only to surely go about the rest of one's life trying to find them again?"

"But you say one would tire of them," Hiei challenged. "One would tire of love. So why would it matter?"

"But then why bother?" Kurama shot back.

"No," Hiei said, suddenly realizing something. "You aren't doing this right. You ask the pointed, obvious question 'why?' I ask the endless question 'why _not_?' But you can't answer that, can you? You don't _know_ why not."

"I've told you—"

"—nothing," Hiei interrupted. "You've merely repeated yourself over and over, telling me the same thing a couple of different ways."

"More than a _couple_."

"Ah, ah, perhaps, but regardless." Hiei would have grinned in a lighter situation, but he knew he was winning—finally—and could not sacrifice that for anything. Kurama threw up his hands.

"All right, fine," he said tiredly. "You win. Are you happy with yourself?"

"I won't be until I learn what I've won," Hiei replied, arrogant now.

"Oh, please, Hiei! _I don't know_!" Kurama spun on his heel and sat on the ground, his head in his hands. "I'm so tired of knowing everything, I have no idea! Please, don't ask me anymore. Please. I never want to know anything, ever again. I never want to answer another question."

Hiei shook his head, sitting across from Kurama and staring at him intently. "I'm asking you simply to answer me this," he said softly. Kurama looked at him through his splayed fingers, his eyes desperate and sorrowful. Hiei smiled a gentle, crooked smile. "Is that why you want to die?"

Slowly, only a small bit, Kurama nodded. "I know I don't know everything," he said, his voice quiet and further muffled by his hands. "I know I have no hope of learning it all. I know I was stupid, arrogant, rash. I really _was_ suicidal at times, probably. But I am so sick and tired of being myself, and of tipping scales to favor my real self, my false self, and the self that I am in between; I am tired of being labeled and fawned over and talked about, and I'm ready to give up. I've done all I wanted to do with my life; I'm finished."

"Everything except living it," Hiei said crassly. Kurama shook his head.

"No. I lived the only way I knew how, and it's too late for me to learn any more. Too late for me to change my life, anyway. You remember Yomi, don't you?"

Hiei nodded. Of course he remembered Yomi; how could he not?

"You remember the story behind our relationship?"

"You weren't romantically involved," Hiei said suspiciously, suddenly wanting to make sure even though he knew it was practically impossible. Kurama smiled softly and shook his head.

"Of course we weren't. But you remember the story, don't you? He wanted to go after something right away, all by himself, and I warned him not to? It was far too dangerous a mission for one man alone, especially one so young and altogether inexperienced as he was at the time."

Hiei nodded again. He knew all of this, but would let Kurama retell it anyway.

"He went anyway." Kurama laughed hollowly, a frightening sound. "It was what I would have done in his position. They were all like me, in their way. Ignorant, you know. Such similarity kept us all together… They thought I understood them. They thought I understood _myself_, as did I. It was stupid, I know, I know."

As if Hiei had been about to tell him as much. Hiei scoffed, but did not interrupt.

"He is still brash, albeit less so. It has taken the creation of a son for him to even begin to calm his mind, and that had to be done forcibly and artificially. It has taken the stealing of an innocent creature's body and soul to even begin to calm my mind, which, in a way, is the same. A new life partly my own and partly different. Several years passed in this new body before I even had the chance to calm my mind, but then it all happened in a flash and I've realized _everything_. Now I admit it: I've lost. I give up. Please, Hiei…I want to take a rest."

Another repetition, but at least Kurama was still trying. Hiei leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes, trying to look into Kurama's soul with this new insight. He saw little at first that he did not already know, but looking deeper, as deep as he could manage without being overwhelmed, he began to open his heart and open his mind and he saw new and different things. He saw not Kurama, disillusioned and arrogant, but Kurama, old and worn. He saw not Kurama the thief, but Kurama the man, the man who had just used not weaponry but wordplay to defeat perhaps the most fearsome foe he had ever known. Fearsome not for her strength, but for her power, her potential, and…her similarity to him. Hiei opened his eyes, blinking at the suddenly too-bright light. Kurama hated and feared Miru because she was so similar to what he had been. Not exactly, of course (as, to the best of Hiei's knowledge, Kurama had never taken slave prisoners or led such wild goose chases with the intent of taking a living trophy), but Kurama had harped and obsessed in his day over particular heists and those behind the loot. He had been naïvely conceited and bored with his games from time to time, needing to end them to start new ones. It had not been until his rebirth, or even until Shiori had caught him falling off a ladder at the cost of her own skin that he had learned any sort of meaning to life.

He saw, he realized then, only what Kurama wanted him to see. Kurama had been orchestrating their conversation from its inception and finally, as Hiei thought back on what had been said and what he had drawn from it, he knew that Kurama truly did want to die. Kurama could not see any alternative and that was the path he had chosen. It would be up to Hiei to let him go his merry way, taking his own life (or letting it take itself, he mused, though he had only begun to suspect the barest hint of that option based on Kurama's comments), or hold him in his mortal place, helping him live out his days in one of the living worlds. Kurama was being foolish, thinking that death was the only option. It was far too simple, anyway, and the thought of one who was stupidly overconfident that he had disproved all other paths.

But in his way, Hiei was stupidly overconfident as well, and having found love for the first time, he did not want to give it up without a fight. After long musings, he shook his head in response to Kurama's plea and reached out to grasp his friend's shoulder.

"Not yet," he said warmly, offering a false sort of eternal comfort. "We'll see what we can do about your hatred for love, Kurama, but I don't think you're ready to give in just yet."

Kurama smiled weakly, nodding as he saw through Hiei's misspeak. Shouldn't he have said "I don't think I'm ready to give you up just yet"? Or even just, "I don't think I'm ready for you to give up just yet"? Yes, of course. But for now, Kurama would play along, and they would see how things turned out. "Shall we go speak to Yûsuke and Kuwabara?" he asked, changing the subject quickly and successfully. Hiei nodded as well.

"They're probably wondering which of us has killed the other," he said with genuine derision. Kurama laughed.

Hiei smiled.

---

"…when's 'later'?"

Kuwabara frowned, shaking his head. "I don't know. I would've thought they'd be back by now; you don't think—I mean, you don't think one of them _killed_ the other, do you?"

Yûsuke's eyes bugged out and he shook his head effusively. "No, no way. It couldn't be. It _couldn't_, could it?"

"I hope not."

"What kind of thing is that to say?"

"_I'd_ say your entire conversation is irrelevant."

Yûsuke and Kuwabara looked each in different directions several times before directing their gazes to the edge of the cliff where Hiei and Kurama stood, Hiei's posture perfect and his hand fisted cockily on his hip as Kurama smiled, trying not to laugh. Hiei raised his eyebrows.

"Much like the noise that comes out of your mouth normally."

"Hiei!"

"Kurama!"

Then, in unison and with joyous expressions, both younger men leapt to their feet.

"You're not dead!"

"Eh?"

Kurama's mouth opened in a small "o" and he tilted his head, politely and cutely confused. Hiei rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, leaning back slightly on his heels. Yûsuke and Kuwabara were over to them in a flash, both grinning brightly as if some great battle had just been won. Neither knew that it was far too early to celebrate. Even Hiei, who had an idea, did not know quite how early.

"Kuwabara was saying he wondered if one of you killed—"

"You thought they might have, don't deny it!"

"Who's denying anything, dumbass? I'm just saying what happened!"

Looking up at Kurama, Hiei closed his eyes exasperatedly and sighed, a clear "What are we going to do with them" expression. Kurama smiled knowingly and nodded in return. For a moment, everything was absolutely normal.

If anything, it should have tipped Hiei off.

But it didn't.

---

Technically this is the last chapter but there will be an EPILOGUE! And it will be full of magic and leprechauns and pixies and Katie Couric and okay you caught me, not really. But there will be an epilogue to wrap things up once and for all. It is EXTREMELY (I can't stress this enough) unlikely that this sequel will become a trilogy. In fact, I'm pretty sure it won't. I'd say 99.5 percent sure. Leaving 0.5 percent available for an extreme unlikelihood.

Oh yeah, by the by, this chapter is technically about 450 words short of my self-imposed goal of 3000 words per chapter, but I've been padding it out for days and I simply couldn't fit in anymore.

"Shiori had caught him falling off a ladder at the cost of her own skin": this was edited out of the American dub. When Kurama was little, he broke a plate as he fell off a ladder and Shiori caught him, the plate shards falling on her arms and cutting them badly. This is why she was in the hospital during the Three Artifacts saga. In the American dub, she was said to have a "potentially terminal disease."


	20. Properties of Death

Disclaimer: if you end up working a 9:00-5:00 day, make sure you like your job. Seriously. And never work overtime in the coat check.

_Fall_

_So get back, back, back to the disaster.__  
My heart's beating faster.  
__Holding on to feel the same._

—_Sugarcult, "Memory"_

Epilogue: Properties of Death

Perfect Memory.

Hiei frowned, suddenly exhausted. He would never underestimate the power of recall. He had known it all along, or so he found himself insisting; hadn't his memories, perfect in every detail, of his childhood prompted him to destroy the Koorime? And hadn't his brief memory of his mother, paired with the then-fresh knowledge that he had a twin, stopped him from doing so? Memories were absolutely necessary and he knew it now more than ever.

Had the recount even been perfect? It had certainly sounded as such. Hiei knew at least parts of it were true. The conversations, he would probably never remember with any conviction, but the actions and the things that mattered—his own feelings, for instance, would be imprinted on his memory forever. Those, he was sure, had been retold perfectly.

Dismissing the whole conundrum as unimportant, as nothing he did could change it, he began to think of simple things. Final touches to make a thing just so (which seemed pointless, most of the time, as so many things were destroyed at one point or another), the fleeting beauty of something like a flower (which was sure to die in short order, yet seemed incredible while it lasted), the simplicity and timelessness of a letter (which was miserably easy to forge or falsify, or change into something totally different even after its completion). Complex notions such as right and wrong were mere theories and did not deserve such attention, especially when others spent their whole lives trying to sort them out and ultimately devised nothing. Details were more satisfying to contemplate as they had solutions and could be resolved many times by many people.

Nothing short of basic arithmetic could be so one-dimensional. Could not a man ask, What of the satisfaction of a job well done despite its fleetingness? What of impermanent beauty being the most appreciated of all? What of that which could be expressed only on paper because speaking the words made things too difficult? What of love, what of life, what of death? What of loss?

Too many questions, not nearly enough answers. Hiei laughed aloud, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. Such was surely one of the conclusions Kurama would draw from life.

Would have, he corrected himself.

And now all he had left was a book and a memory.

That was how Kurama probably wanted it, he mused. Tired of life as Kurama had been, Hiei had never sensed any wish to be completely erased from the world. Merely one to get out of it. It was funny, Hiei thought, that the story ended exactly as he remembered. Even his own emotions and thoughts had been described correctly, which was not as surprising as it probably should have been. Kurama had always been adept at reading people.

Yûsuke and Kuwabara had not understood, as he had known they wouldn't. Yûsuke claimed to, at least at first, but each new detail he had learned made the lie harder to maintain and finally he had given it up. Kuwabara had offered his condolences to Hiei, although Kurama was his friend as well, and asked who was going to notify the other people who would be affected. Hiei hadn't known then and he didn't know now, but he deemed it someone else's problem and left.

Reflecting back on those days, Hiei supposed he had been a bit curt, even harsh. He didn't regret it much, though, because he knew why he had acted in such a way. Even better than that auspicious final mission, he remembered one specific March afternoon a little more than a year ago. March first, he thought it was, the first day of the month nature began to blossom. Of course Kurama would select such a day.

Idly, for no reason he understood, Hiei had decided to visit Kurama and see how the fox was recuperating. They four had returned to the human realm only a week before and Hiei had almost immediately traveled back in the demon realm, making sure everyone there who needed to knew he had returned on his own and was resuming an uninterrupted life of his own making. Back in the human realm once more, Hiei had managed to land himself relatively close to Kurama's apartment. Flying through most of the park, he had reached the tall building in a minute or two, electing to dash up the stairs for no reason at all.

The apartment door—3rd floor, apartment number 3—was open, which was not a surprise. Kurama rarely locked his door, as anything stolen from him he could steal back or easily replace, and any attackers wouldn't stand a chance against the fox spirit. Human attackers, anyway; the odd demon assailant would not be deterred by a locked door. Hiei had knocked so as not to startle Kurama, then pushed the door open and entered without waiting for a response.

The apartment had been immaculately clean. It seemed the floors and furniture had recently been vacuumed and every artifact dusted; even the ceiling looked cleaner than Hiei was accustomed to. If Kurama was taking the time to be such a busybody, there was surely something wrong with him. Hiei had moved tensely throughout the house, his heightened senses telling him something was wrong. A peculiar smell was just beginning to waft through the hall.

Stepping silently, his feet barely even touching the floor and certainly not staying there for more than half a second at a time, Hiei had gone to what he assumed to be the source of the stench: the drawing room. Nothing offensive was lurking in the corners, he had noticed at once. In fact, the room was as perfectly unsoiled as the rest of the house. The only thing out of place was, of course, Kurama himself, who was lying on his back on the divan with a book clutched tightly to his chest. Hiei had smiled wryly at the scene and folded his arms across his chest, confident for a moment before he realized that the odd smell was definitely coming from the drawing room and the only thing that could possibly be giving it off was Kurama.

Contrary to everything he had ever heard before, Hiei had not felt time slowing, nor had he felt any sense of detachment from reality or from himself. He had walked across the carpet methodically, the smell growing stronger as he drew closer, and gently slid the book from Kurama's stiff hands. A few words were printed in tidy handwriting, written with black ink in a slight arc. Hiei scanned them and almost dropped the book, though not from shock. Not quite.

Hiei had looked at Kurama's eyes, which looked nothing like he would have expected. Having seen only bodies viciously murdered as they struggled to survive, his experience with the eyes of the dead told him that they remained open and were struck by desperation and fear, and sometimes hatred. Kurama's were none of these. To begin with, they were closed. Even so, they radiated calm and contentment, relaxed and somehow at peace with the world. They were the eyes of a man who had accomplished all he had set out to in his life.

The smell, which he had recognized then as the putrid stink of death, was still faint, meaning Kurama had probably been lying on the divan for only a short time. Hiei wondered how he had killed himself. No visible scratch marks or incisions meant it had not been a knife or other sharp object; in fact, there had been no blood at all, meaning he had not hit himself with some blunt object, either (though that was unlikely due simply to his position, laid out on his back as if asleep). Then Hiei had realized, cursing himself for not understanding at once: a final act of rebelliousness and mockery had taken Kurama's life. Cautiously folding back the top flap of Kurama's tunic, Hiei had revealed a tiny hole over his friend's heart and the beginnings of a flowering plant. The Grass of Death. Dropping the cloth back, Hiei had offered Kurama a short, respectful bow. I commend you, he had thought. You win.

Yûsuke and Kuwabara had not discovered Kurama until the next day, Hiei found out later, and he never told them that he had found Kurama at once. They would have been furious with him, and though he would not have cared, he decided it was unnecessary information and filed it away in the back of his mind where it could collect dust, for all he cared. He pretended to be stunned when the broke the news to him gently, his real emotions a mix of confusion and anger which caused his brusqueness. Fleeing back to the demon realm nearly at once, Hiei had not spoken to anyone from the human or spirit realms for a little more than a year. He figured Koenma had not found out about Kurama's death until it appeared on his desk, and even then, it had probably been carelessly shoved off into the "Suicide" pile without a second glance.

Though he could read easily and quickly, Hiei had not picked up or even looked at the book he had taken from Kurama until a little more than a year after his death. That morning, in fact, had been the first time he had thought of it since that day. Picking it from his private shelves, he had glanced at the cover and his memory was instantly refreshed, as though he had found Kurama only the previous day. The tidy writing was perfectly preserved with some special ink. Hiei had smiled, shaking his head and feeling a peculiar sadness overtake him.

My Suicide Note

And in smaller letters underneath: Perfect Memory

" 'Hello?' Kurama asked cheerfully…"

Hiei closed the book again and placed it on a high cushion beside his chair. He felt like sleeping for a few days, which would definitely be dangerous and stupid and therefore out of the question. The knowledge he had acquired in the last few hours as he read through Kurama's memoir had loaded him down and was threatening to drag him into its murky depths so that he might never escape, but be trapped forever in a torrent of unanswerable questions. Picking up the book but leaving it closed, he held it to his chest and realized that he held in his hands the only even halfway reliable account of a dastardly demon's first real attempt at shaping a life for herself and the possibility of a reason her executioner had let her go. As the book had promised, no one would ever really know why Kurama had not killed Miru, but when she rose to power, as she surely would, Hiei knew he would be the only one with an idea. No one, he had decided, would ever be allowed to read the book. In fact, if he could help it, Hiei would never let it out of his sight.

Rising out of his seat then, Hiei went over to the only window in his chamber and looked out at the fields below. They were rolling and green, too yellow to be compared to Kurama's eyes, and empty of trees or decorative flora. Kurama would have hated them. The sky, bright red and the color of human blood, reminded Hiei not of death but of Kurama's red hair. He smiled at his own romanticism.

Suicide, he thought then, was something of a romantic concept. Largely irrational and full of adventurous, passionate thoughts and feelings, it also churned up dreamy thoughts of dying for one's beliefs, which had always struck him as foolishly romantic. Going to his bedside, Hiei opened a drawer concealed in the wall and picked out a long, thin knife which appeared better suited for digging the core out of a piece of fruit than for committing some murderous act. But it was fine, and delicate. It was as he remembered Kurama to have been, even if it was not how Kurama had seen himself.

Holding the book tightly, Hiei let his arm fall to his side, the knife grazing his pants leg as he walked back to his seat and stood over it. He examined the book's dark cover, a simple red cloth stretched over some light metal (probably stolen) with rounded corners (probably filed) and written on with black ink (probably calligraphy). The binding, he had never noticed, was merely two layers of thick paper folded in such a fashion that none of the edges were bared, so none would be frayed. It was sturdy, but impermanent. Kurama had never intended for his suicide note to last through the ages. Hiei smiled; knowing the story now, he could destroy the book and no one would ever know. More importantly, no one would ever care. Kurama's legacy had already begun to warp in the demon realm and Hiei could imagine the friends and family he had left in the human realm blocking everything bad he had ever done from their recollections. Who cared anymore why Kurama had let his prey run free? Who cared what had been going through his mind? Miru was probably just glad to be alive and didn't care why. Yûsuke and Kuwabara had decided that they would never know and there was no way to change that. Hiei, who held the answers in his hands, was the only one who might have cared, and so he was the only one who knew. Kurama had made a good decision giving the book to him.

Was that what had happened? Hiei's seemingly arbitrary decision to visit Kurama, his seemingly random decision to use the door instead of the window, which was probably locked. Had it been Kurama's doing? His last act before his true demise? His spirit guiding Hiei to his soulless corpse? Hiei made a soft "ch" sound, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side. What did it matter? He knew all Kurama was planning for him to know. Maybe someday, he would learn the secret of his decision to find Kurama, but for the time being, it didn't really matter.

Although…

Hiei looked down at the knife by his side. Perfect for cutting the core from a piece of fruit…or the core from a living being. Hiei had survived with more blood loss than would be cause by cutting into his chest with this spindly chunk of silver. He would surely be able to carve out his own central nucleus, especially if he did it quickly. Then, dying, he would travel to the spirit realm where he could meet with Kurama and ask him if the fox spirit had shown the way.

But no, he thought then, shaking the idea off. If Kurama had not wanted him to know while he was alive, he surely would not tell him if he killed himself for the purpose of finding out. All in all, it was a stupid reason to die, anyway. Hiei snorted at his rashness. Kurama would have been furious and told him nothing.

So then what reason did he have for dying? Everyone had something. Opposites, as Kurama had told him many times, comprised the universe in its entirely. For black, there was white. For up, there was down. For life, there was death. As Yûsuke often insisted, everyone had some reason for living. So then, as Kurama countered, logically, everyone must have some reason for dying. Hiei had often sided with Kurama on this matter, though he agreed with them both. And now that Kurama was gone and Yûsuke was all but gone from Hiei's life, Hiei needed to carry on the argument with himself.

Kurama _was_ gone. That was fact. He had been gone for some time; Hiei had begun to see life not in the infinite sense that most demons did, but in the touched, limited sense that humans might. And what was Hiei doing with his time? Precious little, that was for sure. Fighting had begun to seem a rather dull way to spend one's time. It was necessary, Hiei knew, and once he would have insisted that it was all beings' natural state. But since Kurama had gone away, and since Hiei had read the last communication his fox friend had left for all the world, he had begun to think differently. Immortality no longer appealed to him the way it had when he was a child; instead he had begun to crave the limitations of humanity. Grossly conflicting with his long-maintained notions that humans were scum (which he still tended towards, for the most part), Hiei was stuck between two distinct worlds, but only mentally. The human aspect he craved could easily be attained by carving out his central nucleus, or by using any other suicidal tool. Hell, he could jump off a tall cliff for the same effect.

But, he mused, Kurama had hinted at the end of his memoir that he wished for Hiei's, Yûsuke's, and Kuwabara's lives to return to normal without him. Of course, Hiei realized, this was impossible. He could say with certainty that he no longer loved Kurama. The older man's suicide had begun to tip the scale of his emotions in that direction and a lack of contact with him for more than a year had nearly finalized things. Perhaps seeing Kurama again would spark some emotion close to lust, or even the shadow of great fondness, but the love was gone and it was not coming back. He had nodded a confirmation, had he not, when Hiei proposed "seeing what they could do" about Kurama's resistance to love? But of course, he would have lied if it was to his advantage, Hiei thought bitterly. And did Kurama's suicide note not explain that he had merely been "playing along"? Of course. It had all been a lie. Hiei felt shades of the potential for friendship with Kurama breaking off. Would there always be an attraction? Probably. Would Kurama think they could try for a quick pseudo-relationship once they were together again? Maybe. But Hiei wouldn't stand for it and that was that. He could handle Kurama being desirable and out of reach. That was easy. That was dull. The real question was: Would he hurt Kurama by rejecting him when they met again after expressing such a fierce, youthful desire to see them coupled together? He didn't know. He might never know. He might never meet Kurama again.

But oh, they had had some great times together. Kurama had taught him so much and helped him grow out of his kiddy mindset that the human world needed to fall under his control. They had grown together, and fought together, and, Hiei was convinced, tried to love together. Even if the latter had failed, Kurama's memoir expressed, if a bit convolutedly, that he had _tried_ to return Hiei's feelings at least briefly. Too old and set in his ways to change, Kurama had done the only thing he knew how to do: Remove the distraction. That was one imperfection Kurama would not be remembered for.

Hiei fingered the narrow blade in his hands and smiled bitterly.

Then his memories, perfect in every detail, of Kurama prompted him to drop the knife.

And Hiei walked out the door.

* * *

And, because things I write tend to confuse me and therefore, they probably confuse other people, I will offer some quickie notes. (Even if the story didn't confuse you, you might want a window into my bizarre brain or you might want to confirm that you're on the right track. Or ignore this completely, I don't think I'll know.) 

The implication of the epilogue is that most of this story (that is, _Fall_) is in fact _My Suicide Note: Perfect Memory_ (the book Kurama was holding when he died). If you go backwards quite a bit, the prologue and chapter one of _Fall_ are fresh text but Kurama's memoir, so to speak, begins the same way chapter two begins, with Kurama taking a phone call from Yûsuke. (The first line of chapter two reads: "Hello?" Kurama asked cheerfully. Hiei frowned at the sudden change in his demeanor.) Because Hiei was utterly alone for about half of the prologue and because chapter one made such obvious references to the prologue, the memoir couldn't begin there (though ideally, I would have liked it to begin at the start of chapter one…oh well).

Now, assuming that most of _Fall_ is in fact _My Suicide Note: Perfect Memory_, that would lead one to believe that for all the stuff Kurama "didn't know about" (i.e., Yûsuke and Kuwabara dealing with Koenma and Botan or how they pointedly did not listening to Kurama's conversation afterwards with Hiei, or even what Hiei or any other character was _thinking_ but not _saying_), he either made it up or he really _did_ know about it but was very good at hiding it. I'm inclined to believe he really did know about most but maybe not all of it, but it's really the reader's decision.

Moving on to another note. The last sentence is not meant to imply that Hiei is going off to kill himself. In fact, the sentence prior is intended to imply that he's _not_ going to kill himself. In my mind, he's going off to start his life on a different sort of track with a new sense of purpose. Not that he's got a specific mission, per say, but that Kurama taught him about humans and their comparably fleeting lives and he's driven now to make his life somehow meaningful beyond fighting all the time. (No that will _not_ be a separate story, nor will it be a sequel, because it's meant to be _ambiguous_. Besides, I don't know what he'd do with himself.)

And yet another note, because I can. The second-to-last sentence referring to Hiei's memories as "perfect in every detail" is IRONIC. Hiei's memory of Kurama is not perfect in every detail just as those who knew Kurama in the human realm will not form their memories of him from the bad things he did.

And since you all kind of deserve some explanation, I will comment on the following:

What the hell was I thinking killing Kurama?

Well, not a lot, to be honest with you. I always intended Hiei and Kurama to end up…not together, but I didn't decide to kill Kurama until chapter eighteen was finished. Based on everything he said to Hiei, and what I know (and have deduced) from his actions and thought processes, I find it unlikely that he would hang around just for Hiei's sake. And that Hiei would come back to the human realm and then leave right away, even for only a week, strikes me as a kind of abandonment. Even if it wasn't, Kurama would probably see it as another reason to not hang around, or at least it wouldn't help convince him not to kill himself. Kurama doesn't want romance and Hiei, who claims to be so devoted to the idea, has just totally bailed, which doesn't give Kurama any reason at all to stay alive. Yes, I have blotted Shiori and the rest of his human family out of the equation because I figure that excuse has been overused. Kurama's a big boy living all on his own now and if it doesn't cross his mind that his mother would be hurt by his death, then…well, we already know he's nuts.

In retrospect, a part of Kurama's suicide was most likely just a thing for him to do to break the monotony of his life. If he, a fox at heart, has nothing to do, or at least nothing _new_ to do for years and years, he's going to get really bored. I know I certainly get bored with too much sameness after awhile, so I can only imagine what it must be like for him. Death, at least permanently, isn't something he's tried before and there isn't a whole lot that he hasn't tried before. Not only is death a new concept, it opens an entirely new world: the spirit world. Yes, Kurama can visit the spirit world, but he can't stay there for long and I have to imagine that some places are only accessible to the actually dead.

Those are all the notes I have right now, but if if I think of any more, I may revise this section to address them.


End file.
